Gale's Games
by Flyza
Summary: Gale is forced into the 76th annual Hunger Games in order to punish Katniss. Can he stay true to his love for her? The story takes place after the Hunger Games, but includes only the beginning of Catching Fire before the Quarter Quell.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! This is my first fanfic so any and all comments are appreciated!! The story takes place after the Hunger Games and includes no Catching Fire. If you're a Gale fan, stay tuned…there is a lot more Gale to come!

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"It's for me. They are doing this in order to get to me…well, to get to Katniss through me. To make her suffer while she watches me die. This can't be happening." I keep an impassive face as these thoughts whirl through my head. I feel someone squeeze my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. I raise my head to see my mother looking into my eyes with concern. No, not concern. Fear.

How can I reassure her when I know that I am doomed? Her eyes shift slightly, subtly indicating the rest of the room. I glance down from my perch on the sofa to my brother Rory clenching his jaw, two tight fists in his lap. My brother Vick sits next to him looking scared and confused. Little Posy snuggles up next to Vick, not understanding what is happening, but looking wide-eyed and solemn because of our sudden tense silence.

Right, mother wants me to reassure them. Be strong for them.

I slap what I hope is a cocky, sideways grin on my face and say, "Well I guess that means extra tesserae for us this year!"

"It also means that your name will be in the reaping ball 48 times." Rory bites out angrily.

I swallow at the scary truth of his words. Not that it even matters how many times my name is in the ball; I know my name will be picked. That is why that rule change was made. So my name could be picked, and Katniss could watch me die.

Instead of voicing my concerns, I smile and say, "Well, the odds have been in my favor so far. What's one more year?"

Rory does not look satisfied, but Vick seems to have calmed a little. Rory opens his mouth to say something more, but my mother smoothly slips in, "Let's get ready for bed; we have a big day tomorrow. Come on, let's go."

She lifts up Posy and softly kisses her on the forehead, gives her free hand to Vick, who takes it meekly, and walks out of the room. Rory gets up to follow but stops to turn and look at me. "Gale. I, I…I love you, you know," he says unexpectedly. Then he puts his arms around me quickly.

I am startled but happy, gripping him in a tight hug. "I love you too, little brother," I say tightly. I close my eyes, remembering when Rory was just a little kid who used to follow me around all the time, trying to be just like his older brother. "Everything's going to be fine," I add. He lets go and looks at me incredulously. "It will," I say, with an assurance that I don't feel. "You and me, we have to be strong for mom. And for Vick and Posy."

He nods with understanding. I ruffle his hair, causing him to scowl. "Up to bed, little man," I call as he turns to leave the room.

Alone in the room, I can finally think about what has happened. Think about how my life has changed. I run a hand through my thick black hair as I recall the mandatory television bulletin we just watched. Caesar Flickerman appeared on the screen amidst flashing lights that made his pinkish hair and skin appear even more lurid.

"Hello, Panemmmmmm," he called out amidst canned applause and cheering. "Now we all know that tomorrow is the reaping for the 76th Hunger Games. But tonight I have news that will make tomorrow even more exciting. There has been a rule change for this year's Games." Caesar pauses for emphasis while the audience gasps and looks excited. There hasn't been a rule change in the Games as long as anyone can remember. Caesar smiles, knowing that his news has shocked the nation.

"Nineteen year olds are now required to submit their name for reaping!" he cries with relish. The audience gasps and then cheers loudly. Older kids mean stronger competitors…children fighting with almost-men.

It takes me a moment to make the connection, and when I do, I inhale sharply. I am once again eligible for the Hunger Games. But why?

And then it clicks. President Snow would only authorize a rule change under the most extreme circumstances. And Katniss's stunt with the berries was pretty extreme. The Capitol cannot take out Katniss, Peeta, or their families without igniting suspicion throughout the country. But he can kill me. And he can make it slow and painful. And he can make Katniss watch.

And Katniss won't even be there to help me. Normally, Hunger Game's champions mentor tributes from the district, but Katniss and Peeta are both already in the Capitol, ostensibly preparing for their wedding.

Is this President Snow's revenge, then? To force Katniss to watch her best friend be tortured and killed in the arena while she must play the happily engaged Hunger Games champion? My stomach churns at the thought.

I know Katniss has to marry Peeta. That there is no other choice but for them to remain Hunger Games champions and lovers forever. But in the back of my mind, I had always had a spark of hope that one day, when everything had calmed down, Katniss would leave Peeta, would run away with me. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't help hoping, biding my time until she realized that we have always belonged together.

But now that Capitol has taken even that far-fetched hope from me. I clench my fists in anger and then rake my hands through my hair again in frustration. I lean forward, bowing my head, my hands clasped behind my neck. I close my eyes tightly, thinking that all I ever wanted was to be with Katniss, living off the forest and having a well-fed, happy family. I didn't want riches or power. I just wanted peace and happiness. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently.

I let out a long sigh and then feel a soft hand rubbing my back. I open my eyes and raise my head to see my mother.

"Go to bed, Gale," she says. "You won't solve anything by staying up all night worrying."

I look at her faced pinched with hunger and fear and concern, and I wonder how she will survive when I am gone.

"Mom, what can I do?" I whisper. "You know my name will be called tomorrow."

She shuts her eyes briefly. "You don't know that," she says sadly. I am about to scoff in protest when she adds, "And even if it is true, we will get on as we always have. You and I, we will be strong and find a way to survive."

I look into my mother's eyes and see the strength and determination there. I can't give up. I have to be strong for her. It doesn't matter that the Capitol will stack the Games against me. I have enough skills to make a good fight of it. And I have to survive. For my family. For my dream of being with Katniss.

"You're right," I say. I reach out to her the way Rory did to me not long ago and pull her into a hug. She clutches me tightly, trembling, stroking my hair, not wanting to let go. Finally I release her and say, "We both have to get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us." She nods, wipes a quick tear from her eye, and walks slowly to her room.

I get up too and slip quietly into the room I share with Vick and Rory, wondering what tomorrow will bring.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up early with my stomach clenching. I slip out of bed and into my hunting boots. After a quick change and face wash, I'm out the door, running to the forest where I know will be my last chance to hunt for my family in a long time.

I force my mind to focus on the tasks at hand: checking my snares, fishing in the stream, and gathering berries. I know that if I dwell on the reaping later today, I won't gather as much as I can for my family. "This is the best thing you could be doing," I think. "Not only are you hunting for your family, but you are practicing your survival skills, gaining confidence."

The sun tells me it is about eleven in the morning as I head back to the fence. I'll have to make some quick trades at the Hob before I have to run home and get ready. "For my big Capitol debut," I think bitterly.

I jog past the place where Katniss and I used to meet before hunting together. I can't help but pause there, wondering if I will ever see the place again. If I will ever see Katniss again. My stomach churns as I think of Katniss and how my heart ached when she went to the Games. I remember watching the Games, jaw clenched, willing Katniss to survive. And I remember the sadness, the harsh heartache I felt when she joined forces with Peeta. I remember each kiss, each tender look, each smile they shared.

I hated the way Peeta put his arm around Katniss like he owned her. And I hated even more the kisses that Katniss initiated, the soft caresses she gave Peeta's face.

All of a sudden, a hot spurt of anger whiplashes through my gut, leaving me breathless. For the first time since last year's Hunger Games, I feel angry with Katniss. No, not angry, enraged. I suffered watching her through the games. I struggled to help her family while she was gone. I loved her silently, burningly, since before the games and after. But we still can't be together, even after all the patient, difficult waiting. All because she had to fake (or not?) a romance with that damn Peeta Mellark. They are smiling and happy in their huge homes in Victor's Village, and I am stuck still struggling, about to die, while they live happily ever after. Damn her. Damn Peeta. And damn those berries.

I know in the back of my head that I am not being fair. That Katniss didn't really have a choice about entering the Games or about pretending to love Peeta. But the bitterness in my heart adds, "For a bad liar, she's pretty good at pretending to be in love with him." And then the anger swoops in again, fresh and hot. "Maybe because she _is_ in love with him." My heart lurches as I think, "And she will live happily ever after with her lover boy while I die in the Games, all because the Capitol thinks we are close."

Then I shake my head. This is not the time to be angry with Katniss. This is the time to be angry with the Capitol, and to defeat them by refusing to die. I will steel myself for these Games and will try my absolute best to win. For myself, for my family, and to avenge the Capitol. I will not soften.

With that thought, I throw my game bag over my shoulder with determination and start running towards the Hob. I don't have much time left to trade and get ready for the reaping.

An hour later I am walking towards the town square with my family. My mother holds Posy on one hip, her other arm around Rory who is frightened at the thought of his first reaping. I want to hold Vick's hand, but I don't want him to feel my sweaty palms.

When we reach the town square, my mother sets Posy down and envelopes Rory in a tight hug. She releases him and puts her arm around me, hugging me with a desperation I have never felt before. "Be strong," she whispers. "Please find a way to survive." I nod, jaw tight, trying to rein in my emotions. I cannot break down in front of my family.

I ruffle Vick's hair, squeeze Posy and give her a kiss. Then I grab Rory to me and whisper in his ear, "If anything happens to me you know what to do." He nods, his tiny body trembling. I swallow hard, and it kills me to say it but I add, "Katniss will help you, alright." He nods again, and I let him go. "Good luck!" I call with an attempt at a smile as I head over to the new section for my age group. "You too," Rory whispers back, eyes wet.

The other boys in my section are grumbling amongst themselves, murmuring about the unfairness of the rule. I long to tell them that they don't need to worry, that my name is sure to be called and they are safe. Somehow my throat is too dry and I can't get the words out.

Mayor Undersee and Effie Trinket climb the stage, but I can't seem to hear the words they are saying. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart. The close packed bodies around me increase the stifling heat, and I feel beads of sweat roll down my back. I ball up my fists, shoving them deep into my pockets, willing Effie to call someone's name other than mine. My head begins to pound because I am clenching my jaw so hard. I can't breathe.

I order myself to relax, to soften my features. I don't want the Capitol audiences to see me looking scared. I try to paste a sneer on my face, but I somehow can't quite manage it.

I am just telling myself to take another breath in, when the entire crowd gasps. I refocus on the ceremony, wondering what has happened. I hear one of the boys next to me mutter, "I can't believed they reaped her. What a loss, man."

I look up at the stage to see a girl I recognize as a year younger than me in school climbing the stairs. I immediately recognize her pale, pretty face and long black curls. She is well liked in school, and very smart. I have often seen her climbing the stage at school to receive honors and awards.

"Maisy Harper?" I whisper in shock to the boy next to me, "There's no way she's ever taken out tesserae." Maisy comes from a rich family. Her mother died years ago, but everyone knows her father sells mining machinery and has a monopoly selling equipment to men working in the Seam. They live in a large house in the nice part of District 12. Maisy always dresses well and looks healthy, like she's never gone to bed hungry. There is a rumor that they even have a piano in their home.

"I guess those are the odds," the boy replies sarcastically.

The odds. Right. The same "odds" that will surely cause my name to be called out next. As the mayor introduces Maisy to the cameras, I look at her with new eyes. I can't think about how Maisy gives remedial tutoring to kids in the Seam who can't afford it. I have to think of her as a target. "Just think of her money," I tell myself. "Think of how she's never been hungry before, how her father extorts the miners. Then you'll be able to kill her."

But my mind won't harden like I want. I can't help thinking about Maisy growing up without a mother. How it is so sad that a smart, beautiful young woman like her has to die for no reason other than the Capitol's cruelty.

"Gale Hawthorne!"

Effie Trinket calling my name pulls me out of my reverie. Knowing that this moment would come has prepared me. Instead of looking shocked, I am able to plaster a cocky sideways grin on my face right before the cameras train on me. This is the Gale I want everyone to see. Strong. Confident. Utterly unafraid.

I'm proud of my nonchalant swagger as I walk up to the stage, though I keep my trembling fists jammed tightly in my pockets. I hear Rory call my name from the front row of boys. I swallow hard, refusing to look at him, knowing that if I do I won't be able to turn away.

Once I am on the stage, I refuse to focus on the people in front of me, allowing their faces to blur into a dark mass before my eyes. "Don't think. Don't look." I coach myself.

Effie trills happily and the audience applauds half-heartedly. Then it is time to turn and shake Maisy's hand. I am surprised that her hand is cool, not sweaty like mine. It's slightly rough—no matter how rich she looks, Maisy must do some kind of manual labor to get hands like that. Her hand trembles slightly, but her dark eyes are steady and clear as she looks into mine and whispers, "Good luck." My mouth is too dry to open so I only nod curtly at her. I turn away and close my eyes briefly. I remind myself that she is my enemy now.

All I can see behind my closed eyelids are Maisy's wide eyes looking softly at me, and my stomach knots at the thought of having to kill her. I open my eyes quickly and focus on the cameras in front of me. I drill my eyes into that camera and let my face fill with the hatred I feel. I want that Capitol to know how much I hate them and the position in which they have put me. A small voice in the back of my mind adds, "I want Katniss to know how much she is making me suffer. Even though she has chosen Peeta, I still have to pay."

I don't notice the ceremony ending or the Peacekeepers pushing me through the doors of the Capitol building. I must be in shock because even my time to say goodbye to my family is a blur, as though time has sped up.

With Posy snuggled in my lap, I promise my mother and brothers that I will make it back. Until then, I direct Rory not to sign up for any tesserae. I tell him that if he needs to hunt, he has to be extremely careful. I've shown him my snares before, and how to fish, but I wish I had taught him more. I just never wanted him to have the responsibility of taking care of our family. My throat burns when I tell him that Katniss will teach him to shoot a bow and arrow when she returns from the Capitol after her wedding.

Then with clutching hugs that seem all too short, my family is gone and I am on a train, heading towards the Capitol, and, most likely, my death.

Hey guys! I know things are going a bit slow right now…but don't worry, the romance and drama will pick up soon! Just be patient!!


	3. Chapter 3

As the door of the train slides shut, my mind begins to focus again. Maisy is standing next to me in the silence of the train. She turns her head, meeting my eyes, and smiles slightly. I can't quite bring myself to smile back.

At that moment, Effie Trinket teeters into our train car on rhinestoned baby pink stilettos that match her hair. "Well hello, dears," she trills in her high-pitched lilt. "Ready for another exciting Games? I hope we can count on you to keep up District 12's reputation after last year!"

She smiles widely and reaches out a hand to me. "Hello, Gale," she says. I reach out and grip her hand as hard as I can. I convey all my hatred for the superficiality, idiocy, and cruelty of the Capitol in my eyes as I try to break Effie's hand. "Oh, well…um," she says, flustered as she lets go of me.

I am pleased to see she takes a frightened step back from me before turning to Maisy with a wavery "hello, dear." To my surprise, Maisy's face brightens in a genuine smile, "Hello, Effie," she says politely, "It's so nice to meet you."

Effie smiles delightedly. "Thank you, dear," she says, putting her arm around Maisy's shoulder and pulling her into the adjoining car. I narrow my eyes as I follow the women into what appears to be a dining car. What game is Maisy playing? Is she trying to worm her way into Effie's good graces in hopes of bagging some sponsors? Maybe I should be playing a little nicer; even if I don't care for Effie Trinket, her help would be pretty valuable.

"You have the most gorgeous hair," Effie says enviously, giving Maisy's long curls a light touch. She's not wrong there. Maisy is famous amongst the boys at school for her long, luxurious hair that falls in shiny black curls to the middle of her back. Most girls in the Seam can't keep their hair so long because it would be too hard to wash every day. And no one in the Seam has good enough nutrition to have such healthy curls.

"Thanks, Effie," Maisy says, ducking her head. Is she _blushing_? "The color is my dad's, but the curls I got from my mother." I give Maisy a hard look. She must be pretty good at acting if she can hide her nervousness at the prospect of imminent death and keep up a superficial conversation with Effie.

The girls have just started discussing Maisy's dress, which I then notice is a pretty shade of light blue, when Haymitch stumbles into the train car, sloshing a bottle of clear liquor.

"Ugh," Effie wrinkles her nose. "You both know of Haymitch, right, dears?" I reach out and shake Haymitch's hand, trying to ignore the smell of liquor emanating from his breath.

"Well you look strong enough," he says woozily. "Though I wonder if it will do much good, being Katniss's cousin and all." I take a step back, shocked that Haymitch has realized why I have been picked for the Games.

"Uncle Haymitch!" I hear Maisy call from behind me. "_Uncle_?" I think, twisting my head back to look at her in surprise. Maisy steps past me and pulls Haymitch into a hug.

To my amazement, Haymitch actually responds, pulling Maisy into a sloshy hug. "I'm sorry you got picked, Mais," he whispers gruffly in her ear. "Though it will be sweet revenge on daddy."

I don't really understand what Haymitch is saying, but I do understand one thing: Maisy Harper has already won over Effie and Haymitch. Any sponsor money we draw will go to her even though her rich upbringing has prevented her gaining any real survival skills. I am the strong one. I actually have a chance of surviving. But that may be jeopardized all because Maisy Harper happened to smile at Effie and hug Haymitch.

My stomach begins to burn with anger, and I really want to break one of the fancy glass decorations adorning the train car. I clench my fist, ready to pound something, when the train car door slides open and Capitol attendants begin walking in with heaping dishes of food.

Some of my anger melts away as my mouth immediately begins to water. Forget getting sponsors; I can help myself for these Games by packing in some food and strength. I can't help grinning. How my family would die to see a spread like this!

I sit across from Maisy at the table, determined to keep her in my sights. Effie reluctantly sits next to me after Maisy guides Haymitch to the seat next to her. "Can I get you something?" Maisy asks Haymitch with real concern. With _fake_ concern, I remind myself harshly as Maisy puts some rolls and butter on Haymitch's plate.

If Effie thinks I am going to serve her like Maisy is serving Haymitch, she better think again. I reach for the platter closest to me, piling my plate with fragrant rice and thick, steaming beef stew. I grab a spoon and start shoveling the rice into my mouth. I have never tasted anything so delicious in my life.

Across from me, Maisy is eating slowly, delicately cutting her vegetables and fish with a knife and bringing them to her mouth with a fork. She is also making polite conversation, asking Effie about her family back in the Capitol and how she got involved in the Hunger Games.

I briefly think that I should be joining the conversation as I hear Effie's enthusiastic responses. But the walnut chicken I have just put on my plate is so good that I can't stop eating long enough to say anything. Forget Maisy and her manners, I think. I'll befriend Effie once this meal is over.

I look up eagerly when the Capitol attendants start to bring in dessert. I am just starting to eyes a mound of something fluffy and chocolaty, when Haymitch falls asleep with a thud into his mashed potatoes. His wine glass tips over, sending glass and wine flying across the table.

"Oh!" Effie shrieks. Her fluffy gold sweater has been stained with red droplets. She quickly gets up, muttering and swiping at her sweater. "Will you take care of that?" she snaps at a Capitol attendant, indicating Haymitch with disgust, as she leaves the car.

The Capitol attendants heave Haymitch up and drag him from the room, leaving Maisy and I behind with all of the food.

I reach for the dessert closest to me when I hear Maisy emit a soft giggle. I look up, stunned that anyone on her way to the Hunger Games could even think of giggling. She looks from Haymitch being dragged away to me, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "Everything here is so ridiculous, don't you think?" she says with a smile.

I look at Maisy incredulously. "I don't think being forced to fight for my life to entertain people like Effie is funny…or ridiculous." I say harshly. I take savage pleasure in seeing Maisy wince at the coldness of my words. I am glad I have finally brought her back to reality.

"Me neither," she whispers, looking down at her plate. It's still half full.

Before she can say anything else I say, "So Haymitch is your uncle, huh? I guess you figure you're pretty set for sponsors and all." I take a large bite of the creamy dessert in my plate, pretending I don't really care about her response.

"Oh Haymitch," she says as her face lights up in a smile. How can she still be smiling? "He's not my uncle. My father and he were drinking buddies for a many years--before my mother died. He was at my house a lot growing up, that's all." She takes a small bite from a cup of chocolate mousse in front of her. "Don't worry, if you think I'm going to get all the sponsor money from Haymitch. He knows that I won't be able to survive the Games. I'm sure he'll use all the money for you."

I look up in surprise again, my mouth full of cream and berries. How can Maisy talk about dying so easily? And without anger or betrayal in her voice? What game is she playing with me?

"So why were you bothering to be so friendly with Effie then?" I ask, my voice hard. I refuse to let this girl win over my sympathy. "If you don't think she can help you get things from sponsors, why get into her good graces?"

"Oh," Maisy says, genuinely surprised at my question. "I don't know," she adds thoughtfully. "I guess I was just being friendly. You know, making one more human connection before the Games. So I'll have one more person to remember me when they're over."

There it is again. Another nonchalant reference to her looming death. I can't meet Maisy's bright eyes or look at her face, softened in the candlelight. I can't get close. I can't feel sorry for her.

My eyes land on the mousse sitting in front of Maisy. "Are you going to finish that?" I spit out. My voice sounds harsh in my own ears, dripping with the implication that Maisy is letting food go to waste because she has never been hungry before.

"Oh no," she says quickly. "Here, take it." She hurriedly passes me the mousse, gently brushing my hands as she gives it to me. I will myself to take a large bite.

"How come you're not eating?" I ask with the same harsh tone. "Must be because you get food like this all the time at home."

I feel a twinge of regret as the brightness leaves Maisy's face and a hard mask descends. There, I've finally made her mad. "No," she says coldly. "I'm just too nervous to eat. That's all."

Still eating spoonfuls of mousse, I let my eyes bore into Maisy's. "You're nervous?" I say darkly. I wonder why I am being so cruel to this girl, why I'm taking out all my rage at the situation on her, but I continue, "You've been eating your food delicately all night, sucking up to Effie and Haymitch, judging me for being hungry and filthy from the Seam, thinking you're all set for the Games because you can play all sweet and innocent..."

I want to say more, but Maisy pounds her fist on the table, stunning me into silence. "How dare you?" she cries. There are no tears in her eyes; rather her face blazes with anger. "I've just been trying to have a nice dinner, considering it will probably be one of my last! You're the one who's been staring at me all night, sneering at how I eat and what I say. You're the one who is judging me, despising me for growing up with a father who has money! You think you are all self-righteous, hating the Capitol for its cruelty. Well, think again, Gale. You can't wait for me to die in the Games, can you? That makes you no better than the Capitol!" Maisy pushes back her chair roughly and stands. There are tears in her eyes now as she looks at me. "I hope you win the Games, Gale. I really do. Only someone like you could be champion." Her words drip with loathing.

Maisy sweeps out of the train car, leaving me stunned. I'm shocked to realize that everything she said about me is true. I had been looking down on Maisy all night; assuming that she was playing some sick game for survival when really she may have been masking her nervousness with polite conversation. I suddenly think of Maisy, not as a competitor, but a scared girl trying to make the best of an impossible situation.

My stomach twists with shame. I wince when I think of her last words. Yes, only an inhuman, judgmental jerk like me could win the Hunger Games. I had forgotten Maisy's humanity and viewed her only as an enemy.

I stand quickly, determined to apologize to Maisy. But then I stop. I can't apologize to her. I can't get close. It's better for her to hate me than think of me as a friend. As much as it kills me, I can't befriend Maisy now. Because she has to die in order for me to live.

I am still standing in the train car deciding what to do when Haymitch stumbles in. His face is so red and swollen that he can barely open his eyes. "Ah, there you are," he says lovingly, reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine still sitting on the table.

I snort in disgust as he takes a swig of the wine. "So you had a fight with Maisy," he says conversationally. "That's good. You don't want to get too close. That girl can be dangerous." Haymitch falls into a chair, taking another long sip of wine from the bottle.

"Dangerous?" I say. "I didn't know she could fight."

Haymitch looks at me, and chuckles sadly. "Oh, that girl can fight, let me tell you. But that's not what I meant. She has a way of worming her way into everyone's heart. Get too close and you won't be able to kill her. And you'll need to in order to win these Games."

I look at Haymitch, shocked at his cold words. "You mean you aren't going to help her?"

Haymitch doesn't meet my eye. Staring into his wine bottle he says, "I wish I could, but all of us know that you are the one with a better chance of winning. Even with President Snow against you." Haymitch lets out a sad sigh. "She's suffered so much. It might even be better for her to die in the Games."

"Maisy has suffered?" I say in disbelief. That girl has had food and security her entire life.

Haymitch looks up at me sharply. "Yeah she's suffered. You may have grown up hungry, boy, but that girl, she had to watch her mother slowly die, coughing out all of her blood until there was none left to sustain her. She," Haymitch hiccups, "has a mean drunk for a father, who beats her and never thinks she's good enough, who squanders all their money on alcohol but still insists that she keep everything looking perfect. She hasn't had an ounce of love in her life since her mother passed. How do you think you would survive?"

I want to reply that I would rather have a full stomach than a hug from my dad, but then I stop. How would I have survived without my mother, my brothers, and Posy pushing me to be strong? How could I handle the dark and dust, pounding the coal seam for hours if I couldn't come home to a smiling Posy and a quick wrestle with my brothers? I swallow. How could I continue to hunt in the bitter cold of winter without warm clothes, if it weren't for Katniss? My family and friends have helped me keep going through hunger and injuries with their love and support. I don't think I could have gotten this far without them.

My mind turns to Maisy. I imagine her watching her mother die as a little girl. I know the feeling of responsibility that comes with a dead parent in District 12, but I can't imagine bearing that burden by myself. I can't imagine running a home, keeping up a good face, and doing so well in school all with a drunk father who beats me. I pause realizing what I just heard, "He _beats _her?" I say indignantly.

Haymitch gives me a knowing look. "Yeah, he does. But you'd never guess, would you?" I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes. "So just because I'll be helping you in the arena doesn't mean you deserve it and she doesn't."

I nod miserably, thinking of Maisy's soft face, silky hair, and hidden inner strength. "Now go to bed," Haymitch says. "I don't want you letting her die for no reason."

I look up and nod. If Maisy isn't going to win, I won't let anyone from another district win either. "Good," Haymitch says. He looks down and takes another drink from his bottle, clearly dismissing me for the night.

I walk away from Haymitch in determination. I don't care about the Games, I think savagely for a second, I _will_ apologize to Maisy tomorrow. Whatever getting closer to her does to my heart doesn't matter. She deserves to know that I am on her side, however dangerous that thought is to my chances for winning the Games.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the helpful comments! I'll definitely use all your suggestions…thanks for reading!

I wake up in the morning with a headache. All of the emotions from yesterday seemed to have coalesced into a dull pounding at the base of my skull. "Don't be weak, Gale," I tell myself. "This journey has only just begun. Get it together."

I force myself out of bed and into the shower. As I brush the hot water through my hair and feel it slide, steaming, down my back, I steel myself for the coming day. It will start with a tough apology to Maisy, the first step in my new resolution to survive the Games, but not to lose myself in the process. And of course, the day will continue with our arrival at the Capitol and our presentation to the country that thirsts for our blood. My stomach twists at the thought.

Then, my stomach twists with hunger. I smile, thinking of the wonderful breakfast I know awaits me. "At least I can screw the Capitol one way," I think. "I can eat as much of its food as I can."

I quickly change and head to the dining car, steeling myself for my first meeting with Maisy since our fight, and since Haymitch told me about her past.

As I enter the car I see a subdued Effie serving herself some fruit at the buffet. Haymitch is nowhere to be found. Maisy sits at the table, eating a roll and looking through a pile of papers.

"Morning, Effie," I say. Effie looks up and nods, still wary of me after my attempt to squeeze the life out of her hand yesterday. Maisy looks up at my words, but quickly looks down at her papers. I take a deep breath; it's now or never.

I walk over to the table and sit in the seat next to Maisy. "Hey," I say. As she looks up, I immediately feel foolish. I can't think of anything to say. All I can think of is Mr. Harper hitting Maisy. I try to imagine blood dripping from a split lip on her pale face. I can't picture it.

"Hey," she says, waiting for me to say something.

I swallow and look down, trying to gather my thoughts. "I just wanted to, um, apologize," I mutter. Maisy continues to look at me, her dark eyes unreadable. "For yesterday," I continue nervously, sweeping my hand through my hair in frustration. Why can't I say what I am thinking? "I was just angry at the whole situation, being reaped and…other things," my mind flashes briefly to Katniss. "I wasn't fair to you…so, sorry."

I look up expectantly, wondering what Maisy will say. Our eyes meet for a brief moment. I'm about to say something else, to apologize again, when Maisy's face lights up in a smile. I can't even describe her smile; it's as though a brilliant light has gone off. Her eyes sparkle and her whole face is radiant. My mouth falls open slightly, my breath leaving me in a soft whoosh. I literally can't speak I am so shocked…and _blinded._

"I accept your apology," she says, her smile still lighting up her whole face.

"You do?" I say, dumbfounded. I thought it would take some more convincing.

"Of course!" Her laugh is like silver bells. "We are all under a lot of pressure."

"Here," she says, handing me her pile of papers. She doesn't seem to realize that I am still paralyzed with surprise at her attitude. "What with Haymitch and Effie fighting last night," she briefly glances at Effie, but she is too busy going through what looks like a schedule to notice, "we missed watching the recap of all the other reapings. I watched them this morning and took some notes on the other tributes. I'm not sure how much it will help, but it can't hurt to know something about our competition, right?"

"What…oh," I say stupidly, "I didn't even think of that." I look down at Maisy's notes. I'm surprised at the level of detail. The sheets contain statistics of the height and weight of each tribute. There are also side notes about the tributes' likely strengths and weaknesses including speed and agility. Some tributes are even starred with comments like 'Possible Career' written in the margins.

"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed. "These are really good. I can't believe you got all of this information just from watching the reapings."

"Oh no, not all of it," says Maisy, giving me a sheepish smile. "The Capitol does scouting reports on all of the tributes in order to jumpstart the betting and sponsorship deals. I asked Effie to pick up a copy when we stopped for fuel this morning."

"Wow," I say again. I look up at Maisy. I really had not been happy to find that I had been reaped with her. I would much rather have had Katniss with me, someone who could give me some good advice on winning the Games, someone I knew would have my back. But Maisy wasn't half bad. She might not be a hunter, but that didn't mean she didn't have skills that could help in the Games. I had definitely underestimated her, just because she was different than me.

"Thanks for these," I say, truly grateful. Thank goodness I had apologized! Just then my stomach gave another rumble.

"Oh!" cried Maisy in surprise. "You better eat something. I think we should be getting to the Capitol soon." She gets up, and I notice her empty plate. She must have already finished breakfast. "Keep the papers," Maisy adds, "I've read them so many times I think I've memorized them. I'm going to find Haymitch."

I turn my attention to the food for a good fifteen minutes before I begin going through Maisy's notes. It's no surprise that the tributes from District 1, Shard and Vane, look like strong competitors. They've probably been training for years. The male tribute from District 2, a huge 18-year old named Magnus, looks like the greatest threat. He is almost seven feet tall with bulging muscles. I can only imagine how many arrows it would take to bring him down, and in hand-to-hand combat, I know I wouldn't stand a chance. I begin to feel a wave of fear when I see at the bottom of the page in Maisy's small, clear writing, 'Potential weaknesses: slow, not agile.' I smile. Of course, if all else fails I could always out run Magnus. I may be strong, but unlike him I am thin and agile, used to running through tough terrain. "Good call, Maisy," I think with rueful smile.

Most of the other tributes don't seem unbeatable. I notice with a sickening feeling that there are two twelve year olds and one fourteen year old in the competition. There is a sneaky looking girl from District 7 that could be dangerous. One competitor from District 5 has an eye patch. I wonder if he received that in a fight.

Most disturbing were the tributes from District 4. They are twins, both six-feet tall with speed, agility, and known weapons skills. I shudder, trying to imagine the twins' parents, knowing that at least one of their kids would never come home. But as I read further I realize that both of the twins had volunteered as tributes. I shudder. How could they both volunteer knowing that one of them would have to die? How could they want the glories and riches of being champion so badly? I imagine the twins savagely beating each other to death with clubs and feel sick.

I don't look up from the papers until Capitol attendants begin clearing away the breakfast dishes. I'm startled by how the time has flown. We must be close to the Capitol by now.

I stand up and gather the papers, determined to find Haymitch before we arrive to demand some advice. Katniss had indicated that Haymitch could be reasonable, even helpful, but required some pushing.

Not sure where Haymitch would be, I exit the dining car the same way Maisy did when she had gone to look for him. To my surprise, I find Haymitch sitting in a leather armchair in the adjoining train car eating toast and sipping from a suspicious metal flask.

I catch a glimpse of Maisy on the other side of the car before I hear a soft thud.

"No, use your body weight more. Twist!" calls Haymitch from his seat. I look carefully at Maisy, trying to figure out what is going on. She walks to the opposite side of the train car and pulls something out of the wall. It takes me a second to realize that it is a knife.

"What's going on here?" I say loudly.

Maisy turns around and smiles. "Oh hey, Gale," she says. "I figured I should learn at least some type of fighting skill before we get to the Capitol, and Haymitch agreed to teach me knife throwing. I would have called you to join, but I figured you already knew how."

Her eyes are so open and honest that I can't believe she's lying. And I do already know how to throw knives.

I give Maisy a smile, impressed by her initiative. She is smart not to have waited for our arrival in the Capitol to start training. "Well, let's see what you got," I say. I am surprised by my actions. But then I think, "Maisy didn't have to give you her notes on the other tributes, but she did. This is just repaying the favor."

Maisy smiles nervously and grips the knife. She turns to the far wall of the train car and hurls the knife. I immediately see what Haymitch meant. She is throwing too hard with her arm, not using the strength of the rest of her body, causing her throw to lose power. The knife reaches the other side of the room, but only barely embeds in the paper target taped to the wood paneling.

"You're aim has gotten pretty good already," I say honestly, "but Haymitch is right; you'll get more power if you use the force of your torso. Here, I'll show you."

Maisy retrieves the knife and returns to our side of the car. I plant my feet firmly in the direction of the target. I imitate holding a knife in my hands and twist my shoulders 180 degrees to the right. "If you stand like this and twist," I turn my torso quickly towards the target and pretend to release a knife, "you're throw will have more power."

Maisy nods in understanding. "Of course! That makes sense," she says excitedly. "You're transferring all of the strength from your core into the upper limbs. The physics makes perfect sense. I can't believe I didn't think of that!"

I look at her strangely, "Um, I guess. I don't really think about it in scientific terms, but I suppose it makes sense that way too."

Maisy nods, absorbed in arranging her body like mine. "Like this?" she says looking at me expectantly.

"Yeah, your stance is good," I reply, "but loosen your grip on the knife. If you hold it too tightly you'll release late and hit below the target. Here…"

I reach up to Maisy's upraised knife hand to rearrange her fingers. Her hand is soft and cool, just as I remember it from the day of the reaping.

"Thanks," Maisy says, another one of her radiant smiles sparkling from her eyes. I look away quickly and release her hand, wondering why the train car feels warmer all of a sudden.

I swallow. "Go on, try it," I say.

Maisy turns and looks at the target with concentration. Then she twists her body and hurls the knife with surprising speed.

A moment later, the knife hits the dead center of the target with a loud thud.

There is a moment of silence. Then Maisy and Haymitch look at each other and let out matching whoops. Maisy runs to retrieve the knife and then goes over to Haymitch and kisses him on the cheek. "Thank you!" she says to him excitedly.

Then she is coming towards me, her face shining. "Thank you for your help!" she says, and I am surprised when all of a sudden she is in my arms.

"That was really good," I say weakly. I uncertainly lift my arms to return the hug, but Maisy has already let go and has turned to look at Haymitch.

"I can't believe this!" she says. "I mean, obviously I'll have to practice a lot more, learn to hit a moving target and all that, but really, it's not at all as hard as I thought it would be!"

"Don't get too excited," Haymitch warns, "You still have a long way to go."

Just then Effie walks into the train car and says, "You three had better get ready. We should be arriving in the Capitol in the next few minutes."

Her words immediately dampen the excitement in the room. "Haymitch, do you have any advice for our tributes before we arrive," Effie says, looking at Haymitch pointedly.

"What? Oh, right. Listen," Haymitch says. "Do you remember the opening ceremony last year, and how Katniss and Peeta looked?"

I think back to last year, watching the Games on the small TV in the Everdeens' house. I don't remember anything about Peeta at the opening ceremonies, but I remember Katniss. She had looked stunning, glowing and beautiful. And powerful, wreathed in flames.

"Sure," Maisy says, cutting into my thoughts. "They looked amazing, especially Katniss."

"Right," Haymitch says. "So remember how they looked and know that I am giving you the same advice that I gave them." He looks at us until we both nod in understanding. "Don't fight your stylists. Don't complain. Do everything they say. Understood?"

We both nod again, and Haymitch looks satisfied. "Good," he says. "Now let me finish my drink before we arrive at the bloody Capitol."

As the words leave his mouth, the train begins to slow. We have arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I don't remember much of my half day with the style team before the opening ceremonies. It is mostly a long blur of painful scrubs, peels, and serums on my skin, a violent hair wash and cut, and the stylists insulting the state of my nails without a thought for my feelings. Not that I care; what good are clean nails to me in the arena? The entire time I try to remind myself of Haymitch's advice. "Think of the sponsors. Think of the sponsors," becomes my mantra as one stylist attacks my eyebrows.

"You're really not half bad," one of the stylists says proudly.

"Not at all," coos another one, appraising me like a tough bargainer at the Hob examines my freshly killed rabbits. "You really do have that ruggedly handsome thing going for you."

I don't take her words as a compliment. I have no desire to look handsome by Capitol standards.

"And those muscles! Really, I hope Portia will let you go out without a shirt. I'm sure you'd get loads of sponsors that way!" the third stylist says longingly, brushing a strand of purple hair behind her ear. I growl at her; she is the one that tweezed my eyebrows so violently.

"And that is why I am the head stylist, and not you," says a soft voice from behind me. I turn around and see a face I recognize from the Games last year. This must be Portia.

"Oh, of course," says the stylist with the purple hair sheepishly. "He's all yours!" she says quickly as the other stylists file out of the room.

Portia looks at me appraisingly for a few minutes before we have lunch. I don't talk much through the meal; I am starting to worry about my outfit. I have no desire to go shirtless in front of the entire Capitol. As though the opening ceremonies weren't demeaning enough.

Portia looks at me thoughtfully and says, "I can see you are worried about your clothes for tonight." I nod and she continues, "Don't worry, Cinna and I think that you and Maisy are both striking enough. You won't need gimmicks and tricks to appeal to sponsors. So no fire. And you will have a shirt on."

I smile in relief. "Come on, let me show you." Portia gets up from the lunch table and leads me to a dressing room where a black garment bag hangs on the door. I open the bag cautiously and look inside.

The clothes don't seem bad at all. From what I can tell, they consist of a black shirt made of a strange, rocky material and black slacks.

"Put them on," says Portia. "I'll do your makeup afterwards."

I slip on the clothes, and they are fairly comfortable. I also tie on a pair of matching black leather booths. Portia attaches a black cape with a red underside around my neck, which makes me feel silly, and places a thin gold circlet of vines on my head. She only spends a few minutes on the makeup, which makes me feel relieved. Who would respect a male tribute covered in tons of makeup?

"Take a look," Portia says proudly. I turned to look in the mirror and am shocked.

I look like myself, but a cleaner, more powerful version. My hair is a little bit shorter than I normally wear it, but it still retains its natural disheveledness. The material of the shirt, I notice, looks rocky, like pieces of unrefined coal. It is more fitted than most of the clothes I wear, allowing the contours of my lean muscles to show under the fabric. I realize that when the chariot is moving, the cape will billow out behind me, showing its red underside. Coal and fire. But more regal.

"Thanks, Portia," I say with genuine feeling. "I really thought it would be a lot worse."

Portia laughs at my words and leads me out the door, "Come on," she says. "Let's get you situated on the chariot."

I will myself not to be nervous as we walk toward the chariot for District 12. Most of the other tributes are already waiting outside the arena. Some of the ones with bulky, awkward costumes need assistance climbing up onto their chariots.

Portia gives me a hand, and I climb up easily to my place. She smiles and gives me some final instructions: Don't be nervous. Lift your chin. Smile. Wave.

I nod nervously, looking around. Suddenly music starts to play and the gates to the stadium start to open. I look around, beginning to panic. All the stylists are looking around too. Where is Maisy?

The chariot is moving forward at a steady pace. I look at Portia with a question in my eyes. She just shrugs and looks around uneasily.

Three of the chariots have already done their round of the stadium, to scarily thunderous applause, when a side door opens, and Cinna and Maisy come running out. I am too relieved to look closely at Maisy. She seems to be wearing a long black dress, but the top is covered by a loose jacket that I guess is meant to protect her from the cold.

I stretch out my hand and pull Maisy up onto the moving chariot. "Cutting it close," I say, rubbing my sweaty palms together as I look to see that there are only three chariots left before we have to enter.

"Yeah, yeah," Maisy says breathlessly as Cinna leaps up trying to do a last-minute fix of the front of her hair.

"Give me the jacket! Come one, quick!" he whispers fiercely. I hear the jacket being removed and Cinna's quick whispered "good luck!" and then we are in the arena.

The noise is deafening. The stadium is literally shaking with thousands of people cheering and stomping. I immediately think of Portia's advice. Instead of focusing on the crowd I think about lifting my head, waving, and smiling.

I take a quick glance up to one of the giant screens in front of me, and am surprised to see myself looking strong, powerful, and confident, smiling in a way I never have before. I hardly recognize myself.

The camera angle switches to a full body shot of Maisy, and my mouth falls open in surprise.

She looks stunning. Her dress is long and black with a few sparkled flecks mixed in. There is a long train of black and red that floats behind her. The dress has long, tight sleeves and a high neck, but Maisy's back is completely bare. The bright stadium lights shine on her pale skin, emphasizing the seemingly endless, elegant curve of her spine. Her long black hair is only half up, leaving her luxurious curls to float behind her in the breeze. A thin gold circlet of gold and red vines sits delicately on her head. Her smile is blinding.

No wonder the crowd is going crazy.

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my side. I look down from the screen to Maisy. She is smiling at the crowd and waving. Through closed teeth she hisses, "Why aren't you waving?"

"Oh!" I say, stunned. I had completely forgotten myself. I quickly lift my chin and resume waving. I feel my cheeks getting warm as I kick myself for being so stupid. I don't have many chances to gain sponsors, and I am blowing it.

When our chariot finally pulls up to the others, the stadium gets quiet, and President Snow begins talking. I continue to stand with my chin raised, knowing that the cameras will train on us throughout the ceremonies.

Without moving my head I scan the stadium. I see Haymitch on the stage with the other mentors. And then I start. Sitting in the front row of the stage is Peeta. And next to him, holding his hand, is Katniss.

I inhale sharply. As I look closer, I realize that Katniss is staring at me, waiting for me to look at her. When I do, she immediately mouths, "I'm sorry."

I am so relieved and excited to see her that at first I don't know what she is talking about. Then, I remember. The Games.

We both know that it is her fault that I am here. But seeing Katniss, feeling that sense of home that I get every time I see her, my anger melts away. I love her. I understand that she is helpless in this situation.

I look deep into Katniss's eyes to make sure she understands. Then I mouth, "It's OK."

She looks down and shakes her head. When she looks up at me again I give her my best sideways, cocky grin. I see her hesitate, but then all of a sudden she smiles back. I almost want to laugh out loud. The Capitol can do what they want to us, but they can't take away our bond, our closeness.

Without warning, Peeta leans down and whispers something in Katniss's ear. I feel my face harden as I look at him. Damn Peeta. How could I forget about him?

Katniss nods and smiles up at Peeta, and my insides twist painfully. I wish with all my heart that Katniss were here, standing next to me in the chariot; that we were going into the Games together. Better yet, I wish I were up on that stage with her, my Games over and done with, the prospect of marriage in front of us.

I feel a soft touch on my arm. I look down at Maisy. There is concern in her wide, soft eyes. "Come on," she says gently. "It's time to wave again."

With a jolt the chariot starts moving. I am in shock. The ceremony is over already! Startled back to reality, I give Maisy's hand a grateful squeeze. She has no obligation to help me in these Games, but here she is once again reminding me of my duty to gain sponsors.

I turn away from the worry in Maisy's dark eyes and plaster a smile on my face. I take one look at Katniss, and my heart breaks at the sadness in her face. Peeta's arm is around her shoulders. I grit my teeth and begin to wave.

Once our chariot leaves the stadium, I try to slip away, but all the stylists come up for a hug, congratulating me on my amazing performance. I don't even know what I am saying to them in reply. All I can think about is Katniss. Her sad eyes. Her brief smile. Her hand in Peeta's.

The thought of Katniss and Peeta causes me to clench my jaw and determinedly extract myself from the throng of stylists. I follow Effie's instructions to a nearby elevator and jam the button for the twelfth floor. I dread meeting Haymitch upstairs, knowing we will have to relive the ceremonies and probably watch a recording of the entire event. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to see Katniss on the recap video. I just want to go to bed and feel sorry for myself.

When the elevator doors open, my surprise makes me forget my bad mood temporarily. The apartment is huge. I kick off my leather boots and allow my feet to sink into the thick carpet. I hear soft music playing as I look around. There is a dining table and sitting area with a large TV. There is also a hallway leading further in, where I assume our rooms will be.

I turn in the other direction and notice that the music isn't being piped in by speakers. There is a massive black piano in one corner of the room, and Maisy is playing it gently.

I walk over to the piano and watch, fascinated at the delicate, complex movement of her fingers. She is still wearing her black dress from the ceremony, and as I watch her from behind, I can't help noticing the way that the softly glowing overhead light makes the exposed skin of her back look almost pearly. My eyes go unfocused as I listen to the music, losing myself as her thick curls swim before me, running my eyes languorously down the curve of her spine…

"Oh!" Maisy cries, startled. The music stops with a loud, off-key note.

"Oh!" I reply, equally surprised. My eyes swim back into focus. "Sorry! I just came over to listen. I've never heard anything like that before! I just, uh…sorry." I finish lamely.

Maisy's body visibly relaxes. "It's ok," she says, smiling slightly. "You just startled me is all. I guess I didn't hear you walk over with the thick carpeting."

I look down at my feet sunk into the soft floor. "I didn't know you could play the piano. That was really good." 

"Thanks," Maisy replies. She turns back to the piano and begins playing it idly, not with the deep concentration of before. "My mom taught me. Before she died. I used to play sometimes when Haymitch was over so he asked the Capitol attendants to put one in the room."

I look over to where her eyes are indicating. I hadn't even noticed Haymitch slumped down in a nearby chair. He must have fallen asleep while Maisy had been playing.

"He said we did great, by the way," Maisy adds, the hint of a smile in her eyes. "At the ceremony, he said we were great before he fell asleep."

I smile back at Maisy and shake my head. Haymitch really can be hopeless. I allow my face to become serious. "Yeah about that, thanks for reminding me not to look like an idiot out there. You didn't have to do that."

Maisy shakes her head slightly. "I told you last night. I know I'm not going to win the Games. And since I won't be winning, obviously I want you to do it."

Her soft voice pulls at something in my gut. Instead of the thinking about the feeling, my mind turns to Maisy this morning. "How can you talk like that?" I say. "Just this morning you were reading up on the tributes and practicing your knife throwing. You were getting really good!"

Maisy smiles gently. "Of course, I am going to do my best in the Games, but let's be realistic. I may last for a while, but without some excellent luck, you and I both know I won't make it." A bitter lump rises in my throat at the truth of her words. "I will do my best," she promises, "but the more times I talk about how I know the Games will end, the better I can accept it."

I look at the soft curve of Maisy's cheek as she looks down at the piano. She is playing something very gentle, and it makes me feel an overwhelming sadness. The tugging in my gut wrenches painfully. "Well, we have training coming up. Just learn some new skills. I know you'll be tough to beat." I had meant to sound harsh and bracing, but my voice cracks ever so slightly at the end of my sentence. So much for showing my confidence in her.

Maisy stops playing the piano and looks back at me. I must look pretty upset because she reaches up and gently touches my cheek with a fingertip. "Oh Gale," she whispers. Her eyes are sad but clear. She drops her finger and I exhale, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. The sadness in her eyes causes my gut to wrench again. "That's nice of you to say," she says quietly. When I open my eyes, Maisy has turned around, and the piano begins to tinkle softly again.

I stand there for a minute, feeling helpless and miserable. I want to reach out and comfort Maisy, but nothing I can say will change the fact the she will most likely be dead in a few days. "The same goes for me," I think bitterly.

Without thinking, I reach my hand out and touch Maisy's shoulder, feeling her soft, pearly skin. She stiffens underneath me, and I drop my hand. "I'm going to bed," I say. Her body relaxes and after a pause she continues playing. "I'll see you in the morning." Maisy doesn't turn around, but nods.

I start walking towards the hallway leading to our rooms. For a brief moment I turn around, "And Maisy," I say, causing her to look up at me with questioning eyes. "You really were great today. I mean, you looked…amazing." The hint of a smile curves at the edge of Maisy's lips, but her face doesn't light up like it normally does when she smiles. It makes me sadder than anything else that has happened tonight.

"Thanks, Gale. You looked good too," she says before turning back to the piano keys. I barely register her words. I just want this day to be over.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I wake up the next morning with muscles tense and nerves jangling. I know I have to be alert and focused today, both in watching the other tributes and in my own training. This is my last chance to learn new skills that may save my life in the arena. I have to be on today.

After a scalding hot shower I head to breakfast. Haymitch is at the table already, looking surprisingly alert. It takes me a second to recognize Maisy at the buffet; her hair is wet and tied up with pins, I guess to keep it out of the way during training.

"Good, you're here," says Haymitch. "Let's talk strategy. Focus on survival skills first. Maisy, for you that means settings fires, edible plants, definitely learn some knots. Gale, I know you have some skill surviving in the wild, but work on any weak points you have in the morning." I nod, and take a huge bite of a roll spread thick with almond butter and plum jam.

"If you have time, learn some new weapons," Haymitch continues, "but don't show the other tributes your greatest strengths. Maisy, I've seen you in hand-to-hand combat; you should save that for the Game makers."

I look up in surprise. Hand-to-hand combat? Where did she learn that? Maisy blushes slightly, looking down at her breakfast plate.

Haymitch continues, "Gale, I know Katniss has said your greatest strength is snares. You can do a few for the Game makers, but I would focus on something a little more flashy, like shooting with a bow and arrow or knife throwing." I nod. I can do that.

"There's no need to stick together so move around. Learn something new. Get a look at the other tributes, alright?" I nod, still wondering about Maisy and her secret fighting skill. Maybe she would be tougher competition than I previously thought.

After breakfast, Effie leads Maisy and me to the elevator, where she punches the button for the basement. During the ride down, I see Maisy biting her thumbnail nervously. When she sees me looking, she stops.

When we reach the training center, I immediately take a quick look at the other tributes. Magnus is massive, and his thick muscles are frightening, but Maisy's notes on him seem correct; he is too bulky to move with speed and precision. I allow myself a very small smile.

The set of twins from District 4 look startlingly alike. They both are the same height and build. They both are pale, with shocking, spiky blond hair. "That will be hard to camouflage," I think grimly. I can't believe I'm already picking apart the other tributes, look for weaknesses that I can use to kill them. The twins huddle together, whispering to each other and sneering at every one else.

The younger kids look frightened, and I can't look at them for too long. How can I, when I know that they have to die for me to survive?

I decide that the greatest threat is Shard, the male tribute from District 1. He and I have similar builds, more lean muscle than bulk. He is several inches taller than me, and he just looks frightening. His black eyes, especially dark against his pale skin, take in the room almost lazily, like he knows he is stronger than every one here. The sides of his head are shaved, but a thick streak of black hair runs down the middle in a short mohawk, and a shock of black bangs sweep across his forehead.

The other potential Careers gather around Shard, talking, boasting, trying to get his attention, but he barely acknowledges them. He is clearly the one to beat.

I set my jaw and saunter as nonchalantly as I can to my first training station, allowing myself to feel my lean muscles work. "Know your own strength, Gale," I coach myself. "You can beat him. You can beat all of them."

I choose to focus on building fires first. I know how to set fires without matches, but I don't like to do it and so don't have much practice. I half listen to the trainer as he explains how flint striking works as I look around the room.

Some of the potential Careers, including Magnus, a wiry boy from District 3, and Vane, the female tribute from District 1 have immediately gone over to the sword fighting station, where their weapons clash viciously with those of the trainers. The District 4 twins are handling a set of maces with a scary sort of devotion. Shard is lazily throwing knives at a set of dummies. Each knife hits its target dead in the face.

My eyes sweep away from the weapons stations, and I see Maisy tying knots three stations away, her delicate fingers working hard. The trainer is smiling at her broadly, giving her some kind of advice. Maisy says something, and they both start laughing.

I turn my focus back to the fires, and within about half an hour, I think I have really mastered setting a fire without a match. "Hopefully, I'll be able to find flint in the arena," I think grimly as I move on.

Throughout the morning, I move from station to station, patiently acquiring new skills. I make sure to keep a subtle watch on the other tributes as well.

Near the end of the training session, I decide that it might be helpful to work on spear throwing. I am not fond of the idea of carrying massive spears with me as I run through the arena, but learning to use a powerful weapon may be useful, especially if I have to take out a strong competitor like Magnus.

There are no other tributes at the spear-throwing station, and I spend my time there focused. The trainer is encouraging, telling me I have the strength to throw spears, but it takes several tries to get used to the heavy, unwieldy weapons.

I am just taking a breather and polishing the spear point of my weapon with my shirt, when I see Shard walk up to me out of the corner of my eye. He picks up one of the spears and feels its heft.

He glances at me and says in a soft, sinister voice, "That girl from your District, not bad, right?" I follow the line of his sight and see Maisy at the edible plants station. Her face looks radiant as she and the trainer laugh about something. That's when I realize that Shard isn't talking about Maisy's survival skills.

"I mean at the opening ceremonies, that dress…" Shard leaves the thought unfinished, but his eyes rake up and down Maisy's body. I grit my teeth.

I pretend to be considering Shard's words, but my mind is working frantically. Is he trying to get a rise out of me? Or is he trying to figure out if Maisy and I are close, if we are planning on working together in the arena? Either way, I can't give anything away.

"Yeah, she's not bad," I say indifferently.

"I'll say," Shard is still looking at Maisy. "Too bad she's not from my District, or I'd be slipping into her room at night, you know, to comfort her." He looks at me directly, a knowing glint in his black eyes.

"Yeah," I say, not looking away, "There's been a little comforting going on already." There, that'll shut him up.

Shard's eyebrows fly up. "Not bad, District 12," he says. He turns towards the target dummies and releases his spear. It flies hard and straight, striking one of the dummies in the face with enough power to leave a crack. "See you around," he says, sauntering away. His eyes are still on Maisy.

I quickly finish at the spear-throwing station, my anger lending strength to my throws. Then I quickly look for Shard, who I see is busy with a bow and arrow. Maisy hasn't left the edible plant section yet, so I head over there, still seething about Shard.

Maisy gives me a quick "hey" and scoots over so I have some space at the station before she turns back to her work. The trainer divides his time between the two of us, though he chats much more with Maisy. I am too busy, working focused and silently. I do better than I expect. I guess I picked up more edible plant knowledge from Katniss than I realized.

Just as we are finishing up, the lunch gong sounds. The trainer sweeps away the plants and looks at me, "You did good," he says, and I nod my thanks.

He turns to Maisy, taking her plants too. "Great job!" he says enthusiastically. "You picked those up so quickly, I'm sure you will do beautifully." To my surprise, the trainer comes around to the front of the station and gives Maisy a tight hug. "Good luck," he says. "I'm rooting for you!"

"Aw, thanks, Zep," Maisy says warmly, flashing him one of her brilliant smiles. "Really, you helped me so much! Good luck with you flower shop!" she says and turns towards the hallway to the lunch tables.

I hurry to catch up with Maisy. "What was that about," I say, grabbing her arm to slow her down.

"Oh! Hey, Gale. What was what about?" Maisy says, genuinely perplexed.

"That, just there with the plant trainer," I say, "The hug, and, and…the flower shop!" I can't even get the words out. Why was Maisy getting all friendly with the edible plant trainer?

"Nothing!" Maisy laughs. "We were just talking while I was at the station and he was telling me that he loves flowers more than edible plants. He's just opened a flower business, you know, doing arrangements for fancy events and things."

I look at her in shock. Why does she even care? "But how could you be so friendly with him? I mean, all these trainers are just getting ready to watch us go to our deaths!"

Now it is Maisy's turn to be shocked. "No, that's not true. I've talked to a bunch of them today, and they're all really nice. Most of them hate training for the Games, but they don't really have a choice because the pay is so good. Really, Gale, how can you say things like that when you haven't even talked to any of the trainers!"

I try to think of a reply, when Maisy adds thoughtfully, "And you know, sometimes it's easier to get people to help you if you're nice to them." I really don't have an answer for that, and Maisy finally gives an exasperated sigh and continues on to the lunch tables.

I walk thoughtfully to the lunchroom, but I can't see Maisy's point. What could being nice to the trainers accomplish? Maybe they would teach some extra skill or hint at some knowledge that they didn't give to anyone else, but that seems like a long shot.

I join the end of the line for the lunch buffet. Maisy is about two people in front of me. Now that training is over, she is unpinning her hair and letting the curls fall down her back. When her face lights up in a smile, I realize it's because she is talking to someone. She laughs brightly and puts her hand on the person's shoulder. When she shifts to pick up her tray, I inhale sharply.

She is talking to Shard.

I groan inwardly. Maisy's friendliness is getting out of control. I think of Shard's demeaning words this morning and the way he looked Maisy up and down. How could she be so naïve, chatting with Shard when he is thinking those terrible things about her? When he would kill her in an instant without a second thought?

I can't help Maisy from where I am standing, but I rush through the line keeping an eye on her and Shard. They sit at a table together, and the other Careers look over at them with anger and jealousy.

I quickly fill my tray, not even noticing what I am putting on it, and hurry over to join them.

"Oh hey, Gale!" Maisy says, turning her radiant eyes from Shard to me as I approach. "Have you met Shard yet?" I nod in acknowledgment of Shard as I sit down warily. Shard gives me a smile and wink, making me lock my jaws in anger. Maisy doesn't seem to notice anything. "Shard was just telling me about his brothers back in District 1," she says, turning back to him. "Go on, what were you saying about your eldest brother being accepted to the elite jewel-cutting school?"

It takes a great force of will for me to unlock my jaws and start eating my food. I can't focus on Maisy's words, but I keep a hooded view of Shard at all times, waiting for him to say or do anything suspicious. But Shard keeps his cool, chatting easily with Maisy. He is not open or friendly, though, keeping his answers guarded.

Maisy, on the other hand, is all chattering ease. She keeps up a steady, friendly conversation about Shard's family, school, and life back home. She doesn't once mention the Games. It's as though she is making friends with a new acquaintance, not matching wits with a tribute bent on murdering her. It's exasperating.

When Shard finishes eating, he stands, clearly ready to leave. He gives Maisy a cold, lopsided grin. There is no friendliness in his eyes when he says, "It's too bad about the Games. It's unfortunate that I'm going to kill you before I really get to know you."

Instead of being offended or scared, Maisy just flashes Shard with one of her radiant smiles. "My thoughts exactly," she says, unafraid of meeting his eyes. "See you tomorrow," she says, turning back to her tray.

Shard blinks, slightly unsettled, but only for a moment. He look up and gives me a quick nod, "See you later, District 12," he says and saunters over to the Career table, probably to report to them on us.

I wait until he is out of earshot before turning on Maisy. "What is the matter with you?" I hiss angrily. "Shard is bent on killing us both in cold blood, and you are chatting to him about his classes in school!"

Maisy looks up, surprised. "So what if he's bent on killing me? I've always wanted to talk to someone from District 1, you know find out about their lives. This is probably my only chance. Besides, I'm bent on killing him too. That doesn't mean we can't have a civilized conversation."

I growl in frustration. Maisy really has no clue.

"What are you playing at?" I say. "Being friendly with Shard won't change his mind about wanting to kill you!"

"Of course not!" replies Maisy, as irritated with me as I am with her. "But it might cause him to underestimate me a little. Not that that is why I did it. I just wanted to get inside the mind of a Career. You know, see why they are so much more accepting of the Games than we are in District 12."

"Who cares about the Careers?" I say, really angry now. "They are all arrogant, heartless monsters who enjoy killing little kids!"

"How would you know if you haven't talked to one?" Maisy says coldly. My mouth flaps like a fish as I try to reply. I've been watching them on TV for years; I don't need to talk to one to know.

"Didn't you hear him talking about his dad?" Maisy says. When I give her a blank look she rolls her eyes and says, "He won the Games twenty years ago. With Shard being the youngest, and all his brothers having done so well in business, winning the Games is his last chance to make his father notice him."

"So?" I say. "Even if that's true, why do you care?"

"Because he's a person, Gale!" Maisy says, angry now too. "The Capitol wants to make monsters out of us, and even if Shard ends up dying in these Games, I can now at least remember him as human, not some mindless killing machine. Only one of us will be alive in a few weeks, but that doesn't mean we can't respect each other, acknowledge each other's sacrifice."

I sit back in shock, digesting Maisy's words. It's true that I have been avoiding getting to know the other tributes, mainly because I want to kill them with as little remorse as possible. Maisy, on the other hand, wants to kill them, but at least give them a little dignity in death. I think of Maisy's friends back home. A lot of them are the rich girls that live in her neighborhood. But even though she's never been down to the Seam, she gets along well with many of the kids from there. Maybe Maisy is just a naturally friendly person.

"You are out of your mind," I say tiredly. My head suddenly aches.

"Great. Now that that is settled, I want you to check this out," she says matter-of-factly. Maisy pulls out a rope tied into a complicated snare. "What do you think? Did I get it right?"

I take a closer look at the snare. I've never seen one like this before, but as I follow the knots and ties, I realize what it is for.

"Is this to entrap a person?" I say in awe.

"Yeah," Maisy replies, tightening one of the knots. "I was working on it this morning, but I wanted to ask your opinion to make sure it's alright."

"It looks good," I say, double-checking it. Inside, I kick myself. I had thought I knew everything about snares, but here was Maisy on her first day mastering something I had never seen before.

"Good," she says with satisfaction. "You know, tying snares really isn't all that bad. I mean, once you think about the physics of the situation, like momentum and weight bearing, it's actually quite interesting!"

"Wow," I say, "I knew you were smart, but I never thought you could apply all that stuff from school to the Hunger Games."

"What?" Maisy says, disconcerted.

"Nothing," I say defensively, "It's just that I knew before that you did really well in school. I just never thought that being book smart could help in the Games."

"Oh," says Maisy looking down. "I didn't know you noticed me in school."

I smile, "Well it's kind of hard not to with you always on stage getting prizes."

Maisy gives me a sheepish grin. "My friends and me, we always talk about trying to do well in school like you," I continue, "but I just don't really have that much time to work on it."

Maisy nods in understanding, "Of course, with all your hunting," she says.

My spine stiffens and I give her a hard look. How does she know about the hunting? I never trade with her family.

When Maisy looks up and sees my hard look, she smiles. "You're friends aren't the only ones who talk at school."

My jaw tightens. I can just imagine Maisy and all of her rich friends giggling about me, the dirty, outlaw hunter from the Seam.

Maisy looks up and realizes that I am not smiling. Her eyes widen, "We don't so anything bad about you," she says.

"Really?" I say, voice tight. "You don't think I'm a thief, poaching the resources of the Capitol?"

"No," Maisy says, laughter in her eyes. When I don't soften, her smile gets even wider. "My friends mostly talk about how they think you're really handsome."

"What?" I exhale in surprise. I had not been expecting that at all.

"Really, Gale," Maisy continues, her eyes dancing. "If you had any brains, you would have spent less time hunting and more time chatting to some of the rich girls in our class. You could marry for money and never have to worry again! Are you done with that?" she adds, reaching for my empty lunch tray.

Still in shock I speak without thinking, "You think I'm handsome?"

Maisy lets out a real laugh now. "No. _They _think you're handsome. _I_ think you're an idiot." She picks up our trays and walks towards the trash bins. "See you at the elevator," she calls back, her voice still ringing with suppressed laughter.

I blink stupidly for a few more seconds before I get up and walk towards the elevator. I'm glad for these few moments away from Maisy so I can compose myself.

When she joins me at the elevator, she doesn't mention our previous conversation. Instead she says, "I'm going to go upstairs and practice my knife throwing. The Avox girl agreed to throw some moving targets for me. You can join if you want."

"Maybe in a little bit," I say. I need to take a break from Maisy for a few minutes. With this girl, there are always too many surprises.

Hey guys, thanks for being patient with the story! I swear, we will get to the actual Games soon!!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The remaining days of training proceed in a similar pattern. I work on different weapons skills, including a little practice at the bow and arrow section, though I try not to show the extent of my skills.

Throughout training I keep a wary watch over Maisy. She moves on to weapons training. Her shooting with a bow and arrow is mediocre, but she does get pretty good at sword fighting. She does well against the trainers, but I can't help thinking that she may have trouble against the stronger tributes. Even though I keep a watch on Maisy, I don't get too close or spend too much time talking to her. She always says something surprising that puts me off guard. And I don't need to feel unsettled before the Games start.

I also keep a watch on Shard. He executes all the weapon's skills with perfection, and he has amassed a following of Careers. He looks strong and ready, but he hasn't gone near Maisy since their first lunch together. I think she messed with his head just like she messed with mine. I allow myself some small satisfaction in that.

Time flies by, and all too soon it is time for our private sessions with the Game makers. One by one, the tributes disappear into the auditorium. I pace around the room, trying to work off some of my nervousness. I already know what I am planning on doing for the Game makers; I just hope I can pull it off.

The 12-year old girl from District 11 finally leaves the room for her private session, leaving me alone with Maisy. She is sitting at the table, her eyes glazed in thought, her right hand idly flipping a small knife.

"You ready?" I ask. I'm not sure why I'm talking to her. My nerves must really be getting to me.

Maisy's eyes clear as she focuses on me. "Yeah," she says simply. She shrugs, "I'm used to performing in front of people. I always had piano recitals or speech competitions back home. Even hosting parties for my dad was like a performance of sorts. I guess I don't really get nervous anymore."

I nod, though I am slightly angry inside. Why does Maisy always seem to have it together?

"You shouldn't be worried, Gale," she says with a smile. "You're so good at all of this stuff. Just pretend your practicing in the woods. It'll all come naturally to you."

I want to reply that performing for a bunch of Capitol fat cats who hold my life in their hands is completely different from practicing shooting in the woods with Katniss, but as I open my mouth, a Capitol attendant opens the door and beckons me into the arena.

"Good luck," Maisy says.

I barely grunt out a "you too" because I'm suddenly having trouble swallowing.

I take a deep breath and quickly go over the plan in my head. I reach the doors to the auditorium and take another deep breath. I know what I have to do.

The doors open, and I enter the auditorium at a run, hoping to blow the judges away with my speed. I grab a set of knives from the weapons table and turn quickly to a set of targets. The knives flash out of my hands in quick succession, each hitting their mark. I allow myself a brief second of grim satisfaction, and then I'm running again. This time I grab a bow and arrows, do a roll, and pull up onto my knees. I shoot off the arrows as fast as I can, but I know that I am not nearly as fast or smooth as Katniss would have been. I take a quick look at the Game makers. Most seem be paying attention to the buffet table, but I notice some are looking with me with interest and murmuring to each other. I'm about to run to the ropes table to start tying snares, when I hear a voice say, "That's enough. You can go."

I let out a breath. I'm disappointed that I didn't get to show the Game makers my best skill, but I don't think I did too badly. I give them a nod, and walk out of the auditorium towards the elevators. I'm panting slightly from my sprinting and I feel a few beads of sweat on my forehead.

Once upstairs, I take a hot shower and change. By the time I'm done, Maisy is back, and every one is sitting down to dinner.

"Well," says Haymitch after a few bites. "How did it go?"

He is looking at me so I go first. "Fine," I say honestly. "I just ran around a lot, hitting targets with different weapons. I think it went alright."

Haymitch squints at me, and then nods. "What about you, Mais?"

She shrugs at him, "I just did what we talked about. I threw the knives and then did some hand-to-hand stuff with Gorn."

"Who's Gorn?" I say in surprise.

"The wrestling trainer," Maisy says, turning to me. "I had to show my hand-to-hand combat skills, and I couldn't do that without a partner."

"I didn't know we could have a partner in private session! Is that even allowed?" I say, turning with confusion to Effie and Haymitch. Effie looks perplexed, turning to Haymitch too.

"Of course trainers are allowed in. They are bound to secrecy about the tributes and their training. If they say anything to the public about the training sessions, they don't even become Avox. They're just killed."

"What!" I say in shock. I look at Maisy, "How did you even know that?"

Maisy gives me a sheepish smile. "Wait, let me guess," I say before she can open her mouth. "You just asked the trainers, right?"

Maisy's smile grows wider and I can't help letting out a laugh. Of course Maisy's friendliness with the trainers paid off. I should have known.

Effie breaks into my thoughts just then, telling us that our scores should be up soon. Maisy and I exchange nervous glances. These scores play a huge part in earning us sponsorship money. My stomach swoops uneasily.

We all troop over to the TV. I settle on one of the black leather couches. Maisy sits next to me, and Haymitch sits down hard on her other side. Effie, Cinna, and Portia perch on the other seats scattered around the television.

The announcement begins with the normal fanfare and flashing lights. Then Shard's menacing face appears on the screen. I brace myself for his high score and am not disappointed when a bright white 11 flashes on the screen. Haymitch lets out an uneasy whistle.

Vane is next, and she flashes a 9. "Looks like a strong group this year," Effie says conversationally. I grit my teeth; she is not making me feel any better.

When Magnus appears on the screen next with a bright white ten, I let out an inward groan. With all of these high scores it will be impossible to get any sponsorship money, especially with Shard, Vane, and Magnus all teaming up in the Career pack. My heart begins to sink.

The rest of the tributes' scores are lower, easing my tension a little bit. The twins from District 4 both score a 9. The boy with the eye patch earns an 8. Everyone else scores between a four and seven, except for the 12-year old girl from District 11 who only manages a 2. I feel a wave of pity for her; she doesn't stand a chance.

My face flashes on the screen next. I'm proud of my indifferent sneer on the TV screen, like I couldn't care less about the Capitol and the Games ahead. I look tough with a thin scar, a hunting accident, over one of my thick eyebrows.

I take a nervous breath and hold it, waiting for my score. Then the screen flashes. An eleven! I let the breath out in relief. I'm a little annoyed that I tied with Shard, but at least I still have a fighting chance of earning some sponsors.

"Wow, that's great Gale," Maisy says, squeezing my arm. My relief makes me careless, and I look down and give her a smile.

"Thanks," I say.

"Shh!" cries Haymitch, looking at the screen intently. Maisy's smiling face is on TV. A second later, her scores appears. I'm shocked. A large white 10 flashes on the screen.

"Oh!" Maisy lets out in surprise.

Cinna, Portia, and Effie are smiling and applauding. Haymitch is nodding his approval and patting Maisy's should in congratulations. I feel a wave of contentment. Both Maisy and I are on par with the Careers. Who says that we can't take them on?

All of a sudden, I start. Why didn't I think of it before?

I wait until the adults have finished their excited talk and say their goodnights. Maisy finishes waving goodnight to Haymitch, and I touch her on the upper arm. She turns to face me with expectant eyes.

"I think we should be partners," I say quickly, before I can second-guess myself.

"What," Maisy says, her mouth falling open slightly. "What do you mean?"

"In the arena," the words rush out of my mouth. "We both scored as well as the Careers, but they have the advantage because they'll be working together. If we team up, maybe we'll have a fighting chance. You know, maybe we could even go on the offensive…"

My words are running together with my excitement. I can't help thinking that it would be nice to have an ally in the Games. Maisy can be a bit irritating and overly sensitive when it comes to befriending others, but she has learned a lot in training, and she is smart and observant. And she scored a 10! She wouldn't be a bad ally at all.

Maisy stops my whirlwind thoughts with a soft hand on my shoulder. "You want to team up with me?" she says incredulously.

"Huh?" I say in shock, looking at her. "Yeah, that's what I just said, didn't I?"

"Are you sure?" she says, her eyes looking into mine searchingly. "At the beginning of this trip you didn't seem keen on talking to me, leave aside going into the arena together."

I think back to the way I treated Maisy when we first met and cringe. No wonder she is reluctant to go along with my plan. "Look," I say, "in the beginning I just assumed that you would be no good in the Games because you had no hunting or survival skills. But you're smart, and you think differently from me—like how you gathered information on all the tributes. And I've watched you in training; you're a fast learner, and you've picked up skills I don't have. I think together, we could make a really strong team." I stop, slightly breathless. I run a hand through my hair nervously, waiting for Maisy's response.

Maisy looks hard at me for another second, and then her face lights up in one of her gorgeous smiles. "Ok," she says, smiling at me.

"Ok?" I say, looking at her closely.

"Yes! I can't believe you asked me, and I hope you don't regret it, but yes! I will absolutely be your partner," Maisy says, her eyes laughing.

I can't help but grin. With Maisy teaming up with me, her different skill set joined with mine, I feel more confident than ever.

Maisy leans forward, still smiling, and puts her arms around me. I envelope her small, soft body in my arms, and just for a moment everything feels so _right_, like we are meant to be partners and face these Games together.

I allow myself to enjoy the hug, pulling Maisy close and sinking my nose into her thick curls. They are so soft and smell like flowers, and I smile thinking of the wild flowers that used to grow in the woods back home.

After a long minute, Maisy starts to pull away, but doesn't let go of me entirely. "We should go to bed," she says, her face still glowing. "We have to get some rest for our interviews tomorrow."

The interview! My face falls a little at the thought. I have no desire to answer personal questions in front of the entire country. I know don't have the people skills necessary to charm the audience.

But then I look into Maisy's eyes and the fear melts away. What does it matter now that I have a good ally for the Games? I can't help but grin at her again. I'll worry about tomorrow in the morning.

"Yeah, you're right," I say, though for some reason I am reluctant to let Maisy go. "Tomorrow is going to be tough."

"It won't be so bad," she says with a smile and squeezes my arms. I feel a little disappointed as she begins to drop her hands.

"Oh and Gale," she says. I feel the warmth of her hands still hovering near my arms. "Thanks for asking me to team up with you. You have no idea how much I wanted that." She puts her hands on my chest, two points of warmth, and lifts up on her toes to give me a soft kiss on the cheek. My hands still rest on her waist, and I pull her gently towards me. For some reason I feel a warm tingle race down my spine as Maisy's curves press against me, and her lips rest on my cheek.

Maisy pulls back, and I feel a little chill, as though my body already misses Maisy's warmth. What is wrong with me?

"Night," Maisy says with a soft smile as she turns to her room.

"Night," I whisper, returning her smile. I pad softly towards my room, still smiling. It's been a good day.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Come on, it's time," I hear Portia say. I swallow nervously, pulling at my cufflinks uncomfortably. I've never had to wear a full suit before. And never for an interview in front of the entire country.

"Let's go!" says Portia with more force, pushing me forward. I swallow again and follow Portia from my room towards the elevator, down to that stage area. I can hear the audience right outside buzzing loudly. "That's a lot of people," I think uneasily.

"Don't be nervous," Portia says, squeezing my shoulder. "You look great."

I nod in agreement because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I know I look fine, in Portia's tailored black suit, white shirt, and red tie. I'm more worried about how I will sound to the audience, if I can even get any words out at all. I try to breath and remember all of Haymitch's advice from this morning.

"Oh, here's Maisy. Wow, Cinna good work!" I hear Portia say. I turn around to see Maisy, rolling her eyes and grinning at me. I grin back.

Portia is right, Maisy looks stunning as usual. She is wearing a simple long, strapless red satin dress. Her creamy skin stands out in contrast to the deep red of her dress and the shiny black of her curls. Her face glows with confidence and poise.

Maisy comes up to me with a smile and squeezes my hand.

"You look amazing, as usual," I say with a smile.

"Thanks," Maisy smiles beck, letting go of my hand to fix one of her curls. "Are you alright, though? You look a little bit green."

"Do I?" I say, worried. I can't let the tributes or the sponsors think I'm weak. "I'm just nervous. I've never been much of a people person."

Maisy gives me a reassuring smile. "Just follow Haymitch's advice, and you'll be fine. Oh, and don't forget to breath," she adds as we file onto the stage. The lights and audience cheering is overwhelming. My stomach doubles up in knots.

I take deep breaths and look down at the floor rather than at the audience. As Caesar Flickerman begins his introductions and calls Shard up to talk to him, I focus only on my own breathing.

Once my stomach has stopped doing somersaults, I make a conscious effort to look up at the audience again. My eyes graze over the front row until I find Portia next to Cinna and Haymitch. She gives me a reassuring smile. I manage to nod and keep scanning the audience.

All of a sudden my breath hitches in my throat. How could I have forgotten? There, in the middle of the second row sits Katniss. Peeta sits next to her, holding her hand.

Katniss looks at me with concern. She lifts her free hand and puts in on her chest, pantomiming taking a breath. I smile, thankful for her reminder to breathe. I think of Katniss before her own interview; she probably was just as I nervous as I am now.

I keep my gaze on Katniss throughout the rest of the interviews. She pretends to be looking attentively at the stage, but the stiffness in her shoulders tells me that she isn't really paying attention to them. Her eyes flit to me every few minutes, steadying me.

I feel a light pressure on my shoulder and look up. Maisy has just gotten up for her interview and the applause is deafening. I think of what the audience is seeing and can't blame them for their thunderous applause. Maisy looks stunning and so poised and competent.

Maisy sails through her interview. She strikes the perfect balance between humor and seriousness, alternating between joking with Caesar and talking about herself. At one point Caesar asks Maisy how someone as beautiful as her can threaten the other tributes. Maisy's face doesn't blush or flinch like I know Katniss's would. Instead she smiles at Caesar and says, "I may look pretty and soft on the outside, but I did score a 10 in training. Just know that I am keeping my deadly skills a secret until I'm in the arena." Even though I know Maisy is just acting for the audience, I can't help feeling a cold shiver go down my spine at her words. Even the audience gasps at her words. She is playing them perfectly.

Maisy leaves the stage to thunderous cheering, and it is my turn. I slouch onto the stage trying not to squint at the bright lights or flinch at Caesar's enthusiastic greeting. He begins with some easy questions about myself, and I relax a little. I keep my eyes on  
Katniss, letting her steady grey orbs calm me.

"So the other tribute from District 12 is something else, isn't she?" Caesar is declaring. "I wonder if we are going to have a repeat of last year. Any declarations of love, Gale?" Caesar asks with a wide smile. The audience goes crazy.

I take a deep breath. Haymitch had warned me that a question like this would come up. I remember his advice to deflect and so I laugh along and say, "No, Caesar, not this year!"

But Caesar doesn't let it go. "Are you sure?" he says, waggling his lavender tinted-eyebrows. "She is absolutely stunning!"

My eyes flit to Maisy, who is blushing and laughing at Caesar's joke, waving to the audience with composure. "She is beautiful," I say honestly, "And smart and…perfect. But I'm just a simple miner from the bad part of town, you know. I could never keep up with a girl like her. I would never be good enough."

The audience gives appreciative coos at my answer, and Caesar nods in understanding. "So there won't be any star-crossed lovers from District 12 this year?" he asks.

My eyes turn back to Katniss, and I can't hide the longing in my voice when I answer, "No. Not everyone can be as lucky as Peeta Mellark." Katniss's eyes widen in horror, and I realize my mistake. "And Katniss," I add quickly. "As lucky as Peeta and Katniss."

The audience is cheering, clearly having missed my mistake. But I catch a glimpse of Haymitch glowering at me. I have to get it together if I want to make it through this interview.

Caesar continues, "Speaking of Katniss…" I gulp and turn to him nervously. Is he going to say something about my staring at her just now? Has he figured out that I'm not her cousin? That I'm in love with her? My thoughts run in panicked circles.

"How do you feel going into these Games as the cousin of last year's champion? Do you think you have anything to prove?"

I let out a sigh of relief. I have to stop being so paranoid. My relief makes me bold, and I say, "No I'm not worried. I think my actions in the arena will speak for themselves."

Caesar and the audience laugh and cheer at my cocky answer. Just then the buzzer rings and my time is up. I leave the stage in a daze, not hearing Caesar's excited words about the Games to come. I feel slightly dizzy at my disastrous mistake on stage. Thank goodness no one seemed to notice.

I stand without thinking as the anthem plays, still kicking myself for my mistake. The tributes begin filing off the stage, and I take one last look at Katniss before I turn to go. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, and I know that she is worried about my going into the arena tomorrow. I try to give her a reassuring smile, but my heart isn't in it.

On the elevator back to our room, Portia and Effie are talking excitedly about how well the interviews went. I can't bring myself to join in the conversation though. I feel miserable.

Once upstairs, I hurry to my room to change and go to bed. I leave my suit crumpled on the floor, disgusted with it and my performance. I pull on a clean white t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I throw back the covers and am about to climb into bed when I think of Maisy. I haven't talked any strategy with her about what we are going to do in the arena tomorrow.

I sigh, knowing that we have to discuss what we'll do at the Cornucopia tomorrow. I throw the covers back down on the bed and slip out of my room. The door to Maisy's room is open, and I look in cautiously. She's not there.

I turn to the front room, thinking that Maisy might be at the piano again. When I reach the end of the hallway, I'm about to enter the living room when I hear urgent, whispered voices. Instinctively, I keep my body in the dark of the hallway and peer forward slowly.

I see Maisy kneeling on the floor, her dress spread in a red pool around her. She is leaning on Haymitch's knee talking with him. Haymitch is still sitting on the couch, looking down at her. I listen closely.

"I can't do it," she's saying in a panicked whisper. "Up until now everything had been a game, a performance. The training is like school in a way, just learning new things. Even performing for the Game makes was just another challenge, like a piano recital. But tomorrow is real, and I can't do it. I don't want to be scared and dirty and throwing knives for real. I can't. I can't do it! I have no idea what I am doing!" Maisy's eyes are dilated in fear, and her voice has lost all control.

Haymitch grabs Maisy's face, but she is trembling and shaking, whispering, "I can't. I'm too scared," over and over again.

"Look at me!" Haymitch says roughly, shaking Maisy until she meets his eye. "Look at me," he says more gently. "I know it's not fair, but you have to do it. You don't have a choice. I'm sorry."

Maisy holds his gaze for a second before tears start spilling out of her eyes. "I don't want to die!" she says in despair. She leans forward and begins sobbing in Haymitch's knee, loud, wracking cries from the depth of her being. Haymitch strokes her hair, looking utterly miserable.

I pull my head back into the hallway, too sick to watch any more. My fists are clenched in anger, and it takes me a second to realize that I am not angry at the Capitol or at the Game makers.

I am angry with Maisy. No, I am furious. Blinding, white anger rips through me, and I punch the wall with all my strength. I don't even notice the pain, I am so angry.

She had fooled everyone: the people of Panem, the Game makers, even me. She had seemed so confident and clever during training and the interview, and we had all fallen for it! Now I knew the truth: she was paralyzed with fear and would be useless in the Games. And I had asked her to be my partner.

I grit my teeth and struggle not to punch the wall again. I stalk into my bedroom and rip the sheets back savagely. I pummel my pillow a few times before throwing myself onto the bed, running my hands through my hair in vicious frustration.

She would be utterly useless tomorrow. In fact, her fear would pull me down in the Games. I have no desire to protect a girl that can't get it together enough to fight for her own life. I groan aloud in frustration. "Why does Maisy have to break down now?" I think savagely, "Now when it matters most. Instead of toughening up she is crying like a little girl in the living room."

Haymitch had been right. Maisy was dangerous. She had wormed her way into my heart, and I had softened, asking her to be my partner. But no more.

Once I make this resolution, my mind starts racing. I know that I will have to get rid of her as soon as I can. We'll be allies in the beginning until I can lose her. I'll have to make it look like an accident, so the people back don't think I've bailed on my partner. Maybe I'll go hunting one day and pretend to get lost. Whatever way I do it, I'll have to lose Maisy as soon as possible. I won't lose the Games because of her.

I spend most of the night tossing and turning, thinking dark thoughts about Maisy and cruel ways in which to abandon her in the arena. I finally fall into an uneasy sleep. I need my rest for the Games in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Do you want any more crackers?" Portia asks.

I look up and nod, taking the crackers from her outstretched hands. "Don't want to be hungry for as long as possible," I say, cramming the first in my mouth.

"I understand," says Portia. "Here have a drink."

I take the proffered glass of water from Portia and continue my nervous pacing around the room.

"Listen, you're going to go out there in just a few minutes. Are you sure you don't want to sit down? You'll tire yourself out," she says.

"Mm-mmm," I refuse, chewing through another cracker. "I've got to get my muscles warmed up so I can make a run for the Cornucopia."

Portia nods in understanding and lets me continue my nervous pacing. In just a few moments I will be in the arena fighting for my life. I go over the strategy in my head: I may not be as strong as some of the tributes, but I am leaner and definitely faster. I'll make a quick run for the Cornucopia, grab some weapons and gear, maybe some food, and race out of there. Next, I'll follow Haymitch's advice and run for a good while until I can find a nice water source. "Then," I think grimly, "I'll find a way to lose Maisy Harper." I think of outrunning her in my initial dash away from the Cornucopia. I allow myself an inward smile.

"It's time, Gale," Portia cuts into my thoughts. "Up here," she indicates, pointing to a slightly raised circular platform. I gulp down the rest of the water noisily and then step on the platform. I take deep breaths as Portia adjusts my lightweight tan jacket, which I wear over an olive green t-shirt, tan cargo pants, and military-style boots. "Good luck," Portia says as she steps back.

I nod in reply as I am encircled in a glass tube and begin my ascent into the arena. Overhead, I hear the announcement, "Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games!" It feels distant and unreal.

The tube has released me into the middle of a forest. I look around in confusion. All the tributes are on individual platforms, forming a circle. However, the platforms are interspersed with large trees. In the middle of the circle, I can see the golden tip of the edge of the Cornucopia glimmering in the sun.

With all the trees and underbrush, I know it will be a difficult run to the Cornucopia. Even worse, the trees provide places to hide, so that any tribute could slip up behind me from the shadow of a tree and take me out.

I know I only have about forty more seconds to look around so I next try to find where I will head after finishing at the Cornucopia. The forest spreads outward from the center of the arena. In front of me, a large mountain with a snowcapped peak looms in the distance. There will definitely be water there, but I don't know how many days it will take for me to reach the mountain. I also don't want to contend with the cold.

I take a quick look behind me and see the forest extending for several miles. There are some dry, rocky ridges in that direction with sparse vegetation. Vegetation means water, and my tan clothes will provide good camouflage there. The ridges mean I can take higher ground too. The forest extending beyond the ridges should provide hunting grounds.

Once I've decided to head in that direction, I look around the circle of tributes, searching for Maisy. I see her four tributes away, looking at me intently. She cocks her head towards the ridges, asking if we should head in that direction. I clench my teeth, angry that she has figured out the place where I want to go. I nod in confirmation, knowing that I won't be able to run off without her now.

Nearly out of time, I ready myself on the balls of my feet, mentally deciding the best way to navigate the forest and reach the Cornucopia.

Nervous beads of sweat drip down my forehead as I count down the seconds. A gong sounds, and I spring from my podium. I don't look in either direction, but fix my eyes on the Cornucopia. I know that one false step in the dangerous underbrush and I will fall, losing precious seconds to reach the Cornucopia before the other tributes.

I swerve around the last tree and reach the Cornucopia. I am the first tribute there, but I see other tributes crashing through the woods, only seconds away.

I climb up the pile of goods in the Cornucopia, searching frantically. I sling a bow and quiver of arrows over my back; then reach for a set of throwing knives. Just then, a sharp pain rips through my left shoulder, and I stumble. I react quickly, ripping a knife from the set in my hands and spinning on my attacker, who is brandishing a bloody sword. I lunge at the girl, managing to dodge the sword. I take a vicious swipe with the knife, cutting into her side and spurting a shower of blood onto the side of my face.

I don't bother to check if the girl is dead. Instead, I begin sliding back down the gear in the Cornucopia, desperate to get out of there. As I reach the bottom of the pile, I see the strap of a black backpack. I pull the strap and sling the bag over my good shoulder, hoping that there might be some good gear inside.

I find my feet and start to run towards the trees again. There is a sharp whistling sound behind me, and I duck my head in time to see a large knife fly through the air. I whip an arrow from the quiver and notch it in the bow as I turn in an arc. Without looking at my attacker, I let the arrow fly. I barely see the arrow notch in the boy's chest before I turn and start running again. I reach down and scoop up the knife that the boy had thrown at me, not slowing my stride.

Once I've angled myself towards the ridge in the distance, I begin a flat-out run. My breath comes in ragged gasps and my shoulder is on fire, but all I care about is putting some distance between myself and the bloodbath behind me.

"Gale!" I hear in front of me. I look up and see Maisy step out from behind a tree where she must have been waiting for me. An unexplainable rage fills me when I see her. Damn, the girl is persistent.

"Come on!" I say, not slowing down. Maisy gets the message, and sprints after me. I take savage pleasure in the knowledge that she won't be able to keep pace with me for long; my legs are much longer than hers, and I am used to running in the forest.

I sprint for another ten minutes, before I slow to a brisk jog. My throat is parched and my shoulder throbs painfully, but I don't want to slow down until we are far from the carnage at the Cornucopia. In the distance, I can still hear the occasional clang of metal, and at one point, a piercing scream.

Maisy doesn't say anything so I keep running, wondering when she will tire. I keep up the fast pace for at least another hour. Maisy slowly begins to fall back a few feet. I keep going ruthlessly fast, waiting for her to slow down further or take a false step and be left behind.

"Gale, we have to stop!" Maisy says desperately. I hide my triumphant smile and speed up, pretending I don't hear her. I know that now is a perfect chance to lose her in the woods. "Gale!" she calls again, and I can hear her feet stumbling as she tries to keep up. "Damn it, Gale! You're leaving a trail!" she calls out.

That pulls me up short. "What?" I say rudely, abruptly stopping and turning to face her.

Maisy appears from behind a tree a second later, breathing heavily. Two spots of pink stand out brightly on her pale cheeks. "You're shoulder is bleeding. You're leaving a trail," she says through her heavy gasps for air.

I twist my neck to look, and sure enough the cut on my shoulder is still oozing blood that has trickled down my shirt, leaving a trail of bright red droplets. I mutter and oath and drop my weapons. I pull back the collar of my shirt and jacket so I can clean the wound properly, but it's difficult for me to hold the collar down and clean the wound with one hand.

"Let me do it," says Maisy stepping forward.

"No!" I say viciously, pulling away. I don't want to accept any help from Maisy. I fumble around, attempting to mop up the blood with the collar of my shirt.

"Stop being stupid, Gale," Maisy says, getting angry. I can tell she is irritated with my running through the woods at top speed and now by my refusing to accept her help. She steps forward and slaps my hand away. I look up at her, ready with an angry reply, but Maisy has a knife in her hand, which she uses to cut a piece of cloth from the hem of my jacket.

"Hey!" I protest angrily.

"Just shut up, and hold still for five seconds," Maisy says, irritation plain in her voice. "Hold this," she commands, putting my hand on the collar of my shirt so that she can see the wound. She cleans the wound with the cloth cut from my jacket. She doesn't bother being gentle, scraping away the blood viciously. She then turns over the cloth, using the clean side to cover the wound. She ties the bandage around my arm, savagely pulling the cloth into a tight knot. "We can wash it later," she says. "Let's move!"

I am so angry about accepting her help, that I don't even bother thanking Maisy. Instead I grab my gear, throw it over my shoulder and start running again. We keep running for several miles, the rocky ridges getting closer over time. Maisy doesn't say anything, but I hear her panting behind me as I run. My head swarms in angry circles as I dwell on my irritation with Maisy. Why won't she just go away?

I force myself to keep breathing; my throat feels like sandpaper. "Don't think about Maisy," I tell myself. "Don't let her distract you." My legs are heavy with fatigue, but I keep moving.

Suddenly, I hear a group of songbirds and a soft rushing sound. I stop quickly, looking around eagerly. "Oh!" Maisy cries, surprised with my abrupt stop. She pulls up to a halt, nearly running into me.

"Watch it!" I say in irritation, even though I know it's not Maisy's fault. "Come on," I say, "I think I hear water."

Maisy nods and follows me. I hear her trying to still her breathing as we walk in ever-widening circles, trying to find the source of the rushing sound.

Finally, we stumble out of the woods and into a small clearing. Sandy rocks are scattered around the banks of a small, flowing river.

"Thank God," Maisy says and kneels at the water's edge. She dunks her hands in the water, and brings some up to wash her face.

I join Maisy at the water's edge. I try to be nonchalant, pretending that I am not as desperate to cool off as she is. Using my hands to form a bowl, I scoop the water into my mouth, feeling my throat relax at the cool relief. I drink a few more gulps and wash my face and neck as I try to catch my breath.

"It's going to be dark in a few hours," Maisy says after a few minutes of silence. "We should probably start looking for a place to spend the night."

I exhale and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to be patient. "Yeah, I think I should do some hunting first. We're going to need something to eat." My voice drips with frustration, full of the implication that I have to do the hunting because Maisy is incapable.

Maisy lets out an angry huff. "Fine. While you do that, I'll sort the packs and purify some water." Her eyes are hard as she reaches out for my pack.

I hesitate. I had been thinking about sneaking off while hunting, leaving Maisy to fend for herself. My mind races. I realize that I will have to return to the water source at some point, so I'll probably run into Maisy again even if I get lost now. I also realize that the viewers at home in District 12, and the sponsors here in the Capitol, have already seen that we are a team. By not giving Maisy the pack now, it will be obvious that I am trying to abandon her.

"Fine. Here," I say angrily, handing over the pack. I snatch up my bow and arrows and stomp off into the woods.

Once in the shade away from Maisy, I force myself to quiet my tread and focus on luring some food. As I lie in wait, I wonder why I am so angry with Maisy. I think of her sobbing and useless the night before and feel vindicated in my anger. "Well, she's been doing alright today," I tell myself. "But then again, she hasn't faced another tribute yet."

After about an hour, I have only managed to shoot three rabbits. It's not much, but I know I should head back before it starts to get dark.

I return to the river, and see Maisy zipping up my black backpack. She looks up, and I can tell she's still angry with me for the way I have been treating her today. She hands me a container of water without meeting my eyes.

I sigh, knowing that since I can't lose Maisy any time soon (without looking like a traitor to those back home) I should at least try to get along with her. I try to swallow my anger as the cold water slides down my throat.

Holding out my catch I say, "I only caught a few rabbits. I'm not sure how we'll cook them, but they should get us to tomorrow."

Maisy looks up, her eyes veiled. "I already started a fire," she says.

"What!" I yell, spitting out the water in surprise, all attempts at being civil forgotten. "Maisy!" I lower my voice, "You'll lead every one right to us!"

"No, you will if you keep yelling like that!" Maisy hisses back. "I started a smokeless fire," she adds, indicating a pile of glowing embers a few feet away.

"Huh?" I say, momentarily distracted from my anger. "How did you do that?"

I go over to examine the fire. "You set a fire and then fan it really quickly so that flames cool off into just embers. Like a barbeque," Maisy explains.

"Like a what?" I ask, still fascinated by the fire and all of its potential.

"Never mind," Maisy says with a sigh. "Can you use it? Because I am really hungry."

"Yeah," I say, feeling an answering rumble in my own stomach. "Where'd you learn this?" I say, rapidly skinning the first rabbit. "I went to the fire station during training, but he never showed me this."

Maisy shrugs. "I've noticed that smoke from fires causes problems for the tributes every year. I figured there had to be a way around it so I just asked the trainer. He showed me once we were alone at the station."

I turn to Maisy in shock. That girl is always full of surprises. She still doesn't meet my eye, so I turn back to the fire, putting the first cubes of rabbit in the embers before skinning the second rabbit.

"There was a good haul in the backpacks," Maisy says, making an effort.

"Backpacks?" I say, looking up with an arched eyebrow. "I only grabbed one."

"Well I grabbed one too," Maisy says. I know she didn't go to the Cornucopia so I look at her, waiting for an explanation. "Off a tribute," Maisy says quietly. "He was injured, stumbling through the woods. He collapsed only a few feet from me…so I just grabbed his pack."

Maisy's eyes flit up to me and then turn back down to the ground rapidly. "Not bad, Harper," I says, genuinly impressed. "So, what was inside?"

"Um," Maisy says, "yours had a water bottle and iodine tablets, a small med kit, a knife, and some tarp. Mine had a sleeping bag, water bottle with a purifier, and a few packs of nuts and dried berries. I split up the food and water bottles between us."

"Sounds good," I say, nodding my head in approval. "Here, have some." I spear a piece of rabbit with my knife and hand it to Maisy.

"Thanks," she says, taking the knife eagerly. She takes a hungry bite, "Oh, it's hot!" she cries, exhaling wildly to cool her mouth. "But it's good too!"

Maisy's frantic movements and sheepish smile makes me laugh. "Careful," I say, blowing on my own piece of meat. "Here," I say, taking a few of the throwing knives out of my set. "You're going to need a weapon."

"Thanks, Gale," Maisy smiles at me. She takes the knives and tucks them carefully in her belt. Then she spears another piece of rabbit out of the fire. "Here, have some water," she says, handing me one of the water bottles.

I take a grateful sip, and then say, "So I was thinking we should head to that ridge for the night. We'll be safer on the higher ground."

"Sure," Maisy says agreeably. "We should finish eating and then head out. It'll be dark soon." A small shiver ripples through her body, and I realize that the air is getting cooler as the sun edges to the horizon.

We finish two of the rabbits in companionable silence. I wrap up the last rabbit to take with us, and kick dirt over the fire to put it out. Maisy refills the water bottles at the stream. We each grab a pack and begin the final trek towards the ridges in the distance.

All of a sudden I start. "What happened to your hair?" I ask, suddenly realizing that Maisy's ponytail doesn't reach her mid-back like it used too. Instead, it only reaches the bottom of her shoulders.

"Oh," Maisy says, pulling at her hair self-consciously. "I cut it last night. I figured all of those curls would be impractical in the arena."

"I'll say," I mutter thoughtfully. Maisy must have cut her hair after her crying fit last night. I look at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering how someone could sob her heart out on the floor one minute and then cut off her hair in anticipation for the Games the next.

We reach the ridge a few minutes later and begin climbing a rocky path up its side. The setting sun leaves long wavering shadows behind us.

"Here," I say finally, stopping in front of a patch of trees and bushes in the middle of the path. "The trees will screen us from any tributes below, and we'll be able to see them through the bushes."

Maisy nods, and we scoot behind the trees. I take out the piece of tarp from my pack and fashion a sort of tent to shield us from anyone passing by. Maisy removes an olive green sleeping bag from her tent and unrolls it over a bed of fallen pine needles.

Just then the sun dips below the horizon and a fanfare of trumpets fills the arena.

"Did you here the cannons go off this morning?" I ask Maisy. "I have no idea how many tributes died at the Cornucopia."

Maisy shakes her head, "I couldn't really hear while we were running through the woods. Come on, let's go look"

We both slip out of our campsite to the edge of the trees where we peer into the sky. The dead tributes flash across the sky, starting with a blond girl from District 3. "Looks like our three favorite Careers made it through," I mutter, referring to Shard, Vane, and Magnus. The twins from District 4 have made it too, I notice, as the next dead tribute to flash in the sky is from District 5. I gulp in recognition; it is the girl with the sword who I had sliced with my knife at the Cornucopia. The boy I shot with an arrow is also dead.

The pictures of the dead end with the boy from District 11. "Wow," Maisy says, as darkness fills the arena. "That's nine dead today. Only fifteen of us left."

I swallow at her ominous words. "Come on," I say gruffly. "Let's get some sleep. It's been a long day."

We quietly slip back to our camp, where the green sleeping bag lays innocently on the ground. We both stare at it for a few awkward seconds.

Finally, I break the silence. "We'll have to share. It's too cold for either of us to go without protection all night."

I can feel Maisy tense next to me in the dark, ready to argue, but she is shivering enough to realize that I'm right.

"Ok," she says, pulling her hair from her ponytail. "Your bigger, so you get in first."

I unzip the bag and awkwardly clamber in. I scoot over to the right side as far as I can, trying to make room for Maisy. I arrange my bow and arrow near my head, within easy reach.

I hear Maisy give a soft sigh before she crawls into the bag. I hold my breath as she presses up against me, trying to pull the zipper closed. When she finally gets the zipper up, she eases back, and I relax.

The bag is a tight fit, though not horribly uncomfortable if we are both on our sides. Maisy has her back to me, and her hair spreads out, tickling my face.

"Mais," I say, a smile in my voice. "Your hair is in my face."

"Oh!" Maisy gives a nervous giggle and maneuvers herself so she is facing me. "Better?" she asks.

I catch my breath at her proximity, her dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. I don't know why, but I don't trust myself to speak, so I just give Maisy a nod in confirmation.

"Good," she says, giving me a small smile. "How's your arm?"

"It's ok," I whisper back, even though it's throbbing dully. "Go on, go to sleep," I add.

Maisy nods and closes her eyes. Within a few minutes, she is asleep. I look at her, breathing gently, and I fleetingly tell myself to remember that I am trying to get rid of this girl. Somehow, though, the burning anger of this morning doesn't return.

I sigh and close my eyes, feeling Maisy's cold body slowly relax with warmth in the sleeping bag. Her head rolls forward a little until it rests lightly on my shoulder. Her hair still smells faintly of wildflowers despite our long run. I inhale the scent gently. I try not to move even though I feel restless. My shoulder still aches, and Maisy's closeness makes me feel funny. I've never slept this close to anyone except Posy when she has nightmares.

Still, I'm exhausted after the long day of stress, running, and hunting. Within minutes of closing my eyes, I'm asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Boom! My eyes fly open in fright. There is nothing but darkness and silence. Boom! I jump slightly in fear. Then, all is dark and silent once more.

I look up and see Maisy sitting up in the sleeping bag, her eyes wide with fear. "It's the cannon," she says.

"How many dead?" I whisper back.

"Three."

I look at her in surprise. "Three? Maybe the Career pack has broken up already."

"Let's go see," she says in a trembling voice. We both clamber out of the sleeping bag and slip back to the edge of the trees. We peer out between the leaves, shivering in the cold.

"There," I say, pointing towards the mountain. The light of a hovercraft is distinct in the distance. "At least they're not near us."

Maisy squints into the darkness as the hovercraft lifts from the ground with the first dead tribute. "It's those kids," she says bleakly.

"What kids?" I whisper back.

"Those little kids. The two twelve-year olds and the fourteen-year old," she explains. "They grouped together during training; they must have formed an alliance in the arena too, thinking there would be safety in numbers."

"I guess not," I say quietly.

"The Careers are hunting through the night," Maisy adds.

We stand in silence, watching the hovercraft pick up the second dead tribute, and then the third. "Well, at least they aren't anywhere near us," I repeat finally. "Come on, let's get back to sleep."

I feel Maisy nod in the dark next to me, and we begin walking back towards camp. "I won't be able to sleep," I think to myself. "Not with those little kids just being murdered. They didn't stand a chance." But then, a quiet voice in the back of my head whispers that will all of the stress and running yesterday, I will fall asleep, regardless of the kids' brutal deaths.

The next time I wake, the sun is just beginning to rise. My shoulder aches dully, and my whole body is stiff from sleeping on the ground and from tensing towards one side of the sleeping bag so as to not disturb Maisy.

I look to my right and see Maisy, her body relaxed in sleep and her breathing gentle. I notice dark shadows under her eyes and realize that she must be exhausted after running all day yesterday.

I awkwardly maneuver myself out of the sleeping bag so as to not wake her. She might as well get some rest t while she can.

I slowly pace around the camp a few times to loosen up my stiff limbs. I swing my left arm up and around to see how much my injury has impaired my range of motion. The arm is stiff and painful, but it is at least strong enough to hold a bow steady.

Maisy's backpack is sitting by her head. I pick it up quietly and walk to the edge of our camp before unzipping it and gently removing the med kit. Inside, I find a small tube of analgesic gel and some clean bandages. I use a dab of water from one of the bottles to clean the wound, and then I swab it with the analgesic before binding it tightly in a clean bandage.

Next, I take a few sips of water while I assess our situation. We have found a seemingly safe camping spot that is relatively close to water, and, I think, far from the Career pack for now. We have medicine, weapons, and shelter, but we are dangerously low on food. All we have is the one rabbit from yesterday and a few packs of dried nuts and berries.

So there it is; our first order of business today should be gathering some stores of food and regaining our energy after yesterday's long run. I've just begun counting my arrows in anticipation for hunting when I hear Maisy stir behind me.

"Hey," she says with a small smile, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face.

"Hey," I whisper back. "How're you feeling?"

"Alright," Maisy replies. "A little stiff."

"Me too," I smile. "Come on, let's eat." I begin unwrapping the rabbit and dividing it into two piles. Maisy slips out of the sleeping bag, rolls it up, and puts it in her backpack before joining me.

"What's the plan?" she asks, after taking a large bite of rabbit.

"Hunting and gathering," I answer, around a mouthful of meat. "Today is about conserving energy and resources. We can go on the offensive once we've settled in and got some proper food."

Maisy agrees, and we quickly finish our meal, pack our backpacks, and begin trekking down the sandy ridges towards the forest below.

"We should probably hunt by the water," I say thoughtfully, "There's more likely to be game there." I lead Maisy through the woods in the direction of the stream. On the way there I see a bush, lush with edible berries. "Here," I say, emptying the med kit and handing it to her. "Collect some berries in here, then meet me by the stream."

Maisy takes the empty med kit and heads towards the berries. "Too bad we don't have any rope," she says. "Otherwise I could set some snares too."

I shrug in response and continue the remaining half-mile towards the stream. As I tread quietly in solitude, I hear animals begin to scurry around me. Crouching low in some bushes, I wait to see what will emerge from the forest.

A few squirrels scamper by, but I wait patiently, hoping for bigger game. Birds caw above my head, and I fleetingly think that we should search for eggs later. After about forty minutes of waiting, a group of wild grouse ambles through the bushes. I shoot two quickly before the birds start to scatter. I silently curse as I go to pick up the birds; I could've gotten at least two more if my shoulder hadn't been hurting so much.

I tie the birds' necks together with my belt and keep moving. I wonder if Maisy is already at the stream and worrying because I am not there yet. "Maybe I'll teach her how to fish when I reach the stream," I think to myself.

Suddenly, I hear a branch crack behind me. I whip around in time to see a fist coming toward me. It connects with my face hard, sending me reeling. I shake my head, trying to clear the stars popping in front of my eyes, when I feel another thunderous crack on my other cheek.

I drop to my knees and roll away before I can get punched again. I take a few running steps before turning around. My attacker is the wiry boy from District 5 with the menacing eye patch. He reels back and forth as he rushes toward me, and I realize that he must be dehydrated or severely injured to be running with so little coordination.

The boy lunges at the birds still clutched in my hands, indicating that he is hungry more than thirsty. I swipe the birds away from him easily and punch him viciously in the gut.

I back away quickly trying to grab an arrow with one hand while I sling the bow off my shoulder with the other. My injured arm makes my movements too slow, and the boy attacks me again before I can shoot him. He runs into me hard, knocking the breath out of my body and causing me to drop the bow from my injured arm. He pounds me with a few more ruthless punches to the gut while I back away and scrabble to get the knife out of my pocket.

Finally getting a grip on the knife, I force myself up from my doubled over posture and swipe at the boys face as fast as I can. I rip an angry gash from his ear to his upper lip.

The boy growls in pain, splattering blood as he shakes his head. Hunger and desperation give him strength though, and he rushes at me again. With one hand he grabs my throat, and with the other he fights for control of the knife. I desperately clutch the knife, but I can't breath, and eventually I let it drop so I can use both hands to try and pry his hand from my throat.

The boy pushes me against a tree trunk, using both hands to squeeze my neck now. Black spots are blooming in front of my eyes, and I can hear my ragged gasps as I attempt to get some air.

I start panicking, realizing that this boy will kill me in a few seconds if I don't get it together. I kick out blindly, connecting with the boy's stomach. He lurches back in pain and surprise, releasing my neck. I cough wildly, trying to inhale a few precious breaths, but the boy recovers quickly and circles my throat again with his bony hands.

I lash out my legs again, but I'm losing strength with the lack of oxygen. Blackness starts to seep into the edges of my vision again, and I know I only have one more shot before I'll pass out. I try desperately to gather my strength, but I can't. My lungs are on fire and my throat works frantically, trying to gasp some air.

Faintly in the background, I hear a piercing shriek, and then all of a sudden, the pressure on my neck disappears. I double over, and my throat spasms wildly. I cough and hack, my whole body shaking. My vision slowly clears, and I back up a few paces as I try to put some space between the boy and me.

My back hits the tree trunk, and I stop, still coughing and massaging my throat. I brace myself for another attack and look up.

My eyes widen in shock as I see the boy with the eye patch twitching on the ground in front of me. Maisy stands over him with a bloody knife in her right hand. She is panting hard and staring at the boy. She takes a few more gulps of air, tightens her fist around the knife, and then kneels on the ground, plunging the knife into the boy's heart with another scream.

A cannon goes off in the distance, and Maisy falls away from the boy. She crabs back away from him for a few feet before dropping the knife and collapsing on the ground, trembling.

Finally, she looks up at me with wide, terrified eyes. "Are you ok?" she whispers, her voice cracking at the end.

"Yeah," I manage to get out, my throat still spasming slightly. "You?"

"Yeah," she nods, still shaking.

I hear a droning sound and look up. A hovercraft is descending, its black claw slowly getting bigger as the craft nears us.

"Come on, we have to go," I say, finally galvanized into action at the sight of the hovercraft.

I look around, trying to find my knife. I see it a few feet away, its handle sticking out of a small pile of leaves. I hurry to retrieve it, my bow, and the pair of birds before the hovercraft descends.

"Maisy let's move!" I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I look behind me to see Maisy pulling a backpack from under the dead boy's back. The pack finally releases from under his dead weight, and Maisy snatches it up before dashing away from the corpse. Just in time, as the hovercraft reaches out with its claw and gently picks up the boy's dead body. Maisy runs up next to me, and with unspoken agreement we both start running towards the ridges.

We reach our camp, and I stop, doubled over, panting hard. The boy must have really done a number on my throat to make my breathing so labored.

"Here," Maisy says, also panting, as she hands me one of the water containers.

"Thanks," I say, taking a few slow gulps. My throat reacts with hacking coughs at first, but eventually relaxes enough so that I can get some water down.

I hand the bottle over to Maisy, who is lying with her back on the ground, her eyes closed as if she is in pain.

"Are you ok?" I ask as she sits up and takes a small sip of water. She nods without meeting my eye.

"So what's the haul?" I ask, walking over the to the pack that Maisy had filched off the boy's dead body. Pawing through, I find a few feet of rope, a medicine bottle containing several energy pills, a wadded up blanket, and, wrapped in a piece of brown cloth, a small half loaf of bread.

"Jackpot!" I call out, holding up the bread. "Here, have some," I say, cutting the bread in half.

"Shouldn't we conserve some?" Maisy says halfheartedly as she takes the bread. Then she takes a hungry bite and smiles sheepishly. "Never mind, I'm starving," she takes another huge bite.

I smile and stuff some bread in my mouth. I immediately cringe as shooting pains radiate out from my jaw where the boy punched me.

"What's wrong?" Maisy asks, rushing to my side.

"Nothing," I mumble. "That kid punched me in the face a few times."

"Here," Maisy says, placing the water bottle to my jaw. The cold water numbs my cheek instantly.

"Oh…thanks," I say, relief melting my limbs. "That feels good."

We chew our bread in silence for a few minutes. I look at Maisy awkwardly, and realize that I have to ask her.

I clear my throat. "So, um, how did you find me? In the woods, with that kid…" I stumble over my words.

Maisy doesn't meet my eyes. Instead, she looks down at her fingers fiddling with a blade of grass. "It was nothing," she mumbles. "I was just walking towards the stream and I heard you guys struggling."

"So then you just stabbed the guy?" I ask, trying to prompt Maisy to give me some more details.

Maisy shrugs, "I guess," she says, still not looking at me. "Listen," she says after a long pause, "I should go refill the water containers." She grabs the canteens and rises to her feet.

"Oh," I say, surprised at the change of subject. I start to get up. "Want me to come with you?"

"No!" Maisy says quickly. She takes a deep breath. "You should start cooking those birds so we have something besides bread to eat today."

"Ok," I say looking at Maisy closely. Why is she acting so strangely? It's not like her to be so quiet, so non-communicative.

Maisy tucks her knife in her belt and slings her pack over her shoulder. She starts walking towards the stream without looking back.

I take my time searching through the underbrush to find wood for the fire. During my search, I think uneasily about Maisy. Less than a day ago I had been desperate to get rid of her, but she had proven herself capable of handling the arena so far. And, I had to admit, it was nice to have an ally in these Games, someone to help me hunt, and someone to save my life. That thought makes me even more uneasy. I don't want to become too dependent on Maisy's help, or her company. "Because," I think grimly, "she has to die for you to get back home."

I push that thought from my mind quickly. There are still eleven tributes left; there is a lot of time left between now and the end of the Games. Instead, I think about Maisy's behavior this afternoon. Why was she so quiet? "Maybe," I admonish myself, "it's because you haven't treated her very well since the Games have started. You haven't even thanked her for saving your life."

While I clean the birds I make a mental promise to myself that I will thank Maisy for killing my attacker today, and I will apologize for my past behavior to her.

Lighting the fire is difficult because I have never seen Maisy do it. I carefully pile the branches and find a large leaf to fan the flames. I light the fire and then flap at the flames wildly before too much smoke can go up. Sure enough, the flames die down quickly to smokeless embers.

By the time the meat has finished cooking, I start to worry about Maisy. She has been gone from camp for almost two hours. I think of the boy from District 5 sneaking up on me in the woods while I was alone and swallow nervously. Have I abandoned Maisy to some horrible fate?

I pack the meat quickly and sling my pack and weapons over my shoulder. I take to the woods at a jog, knowing that the stream is at least twenty minutes away.

My run to the stream is uneventful. I don't hear or see any signs of struggle. And of course, the cannon hasn't gone off, signifying that Maisy must still be alive.

I approach the river cautiously, but there is no one along the bank. I still my breathing and listen hard, wondering if I've missed anything.

After a few seconds I hear a muffled whimper from behind a pair of boulders. I walk towards the stones cautiously, until I see Maisy leaning her back against one of the boulders. The hood of her jacket is pulled up, covering her hair and face. With the sandy coloring of her clothes, she is almost invisible against the tan rocks.

"Hey," I whisper, warning her of my arrival. Maisy looks up at me, and then turns her head away quickly. I see tears on her face.

"Are you ok?" I ask, edging closer. Maisy nods, turning her face away from me.

"What's wrong?" I say. I take Maisy's chin with my thumb and turn her face firmly towards me. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Maisy says, her voice watery. She pulls her face away and swipes at her tears viciously with the back of her hand.

"Then why did you take so long? I was getting worried."

Maisy looks at me and sighs. "I went back to get the berries. I left them in the woods when the hovercraft came to pick up…when the hovercraft came." She indicates the med kit at her feet.

"So you have the berries. Why are you crying?" I say.

"I'm not crying!" Maisy says in frustration. She stands up quickly and strides to the edge of the stream where she scoops up handfuls of water and washes her face.

"You're not?" I say ironically, coming to sit by her. I look at her until she answers.

"Fine, I was crying," she says. She stares at her reflection in the water. "It's just that kid." Maisy shudders. "I killed him, you know. I just…I just needed a minute to…process it." I don't really know what to say to that. I sit struggling for words for a few minutes before Maisy whispers, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see me like this."

I look up in surprise. "I don't want you to think I'm weak," she adds quietly, looking down and blushing slightly.

"Maisy, you just saved my life back there! I don't think you're weak," I protest. But then I stop. I had seen Maisy cry once before, and the sight had enraged me. I _had_ thought she was weak. I give Maisy a hard look. This girl seems to know more about me than I do.

"And even if I do think you're weak, I would be wrong," I amend my words.

"No," Maisy shakes her head. "I am weak. I knew I had to kill that kid, but it was so hard. And feeling that knife sinking into his body. I mean…it was awful. I've never killed anything before…leave aside a person. I, I can't even explain how horrible it was…" Maisy trails off, staring into the water.

"I know how awful it is," I whisper. Maisy's head turns to me. "At the Cornucopia…I killed two kids," I say quickly.

"Oh!" Maisy exhales. I turn to look at her and see shock mixed with horror reflected in her eyes. I look away quickly.

Maisy stares at me for a second longer before saying, "How do you deal with it?"

I swallow the sick feeling in my stomach. "I don't think about it," I say. "After the Games, there'll be all the time in the world to think about it. Until then, I have to stay focused."

Maisy nods and looks back at the water. "You're right," she says. She scoops out another handful of water to wash away the last traces of tears. "Alright, I won't think about it any more."

I see the determined look on her face and nod in approval. "Good." I stand up and brush the dirt off of my pants. "Come on, let's get back to camp. It'll be dark soon."

I stretch out my hand to help Maisy up. She hesitates for a second, but then grabs it. She picks up her pack and the box of berries. We turn towards the ridges, the sun setting in orange flames behind us.

Maisy and I split some of the cooked grouse during the trek back to camp. We are both exhausted, and I want to be ready for bed by the time the sun sets.

The sun dips below the horizon right as we reach our camping spot. Maisy unrolls the sleeping bag, and I hang up the tarp as the fanfare begins.

"We don't have to watch," I say turning to Maisy.

"No, we do," she says resolutely. "I want to see if those little kids really died last night."

I nod. I can't believe that it was only a few hours ago that we had awoken to the cannon blasts last night. This day has been so long.

Maisy and I walk to the edge of the underbrush in time to see the face of the twelve-year old girl, a tribute from District 3, flash in the sky. So Maisy was right: the Career pack hunted those poor kids last night.

Next, the boy with the eye patch appears in the sky. I think of him running at me, desperate for food. He doesn't look so intimidating now.

I hear Maisy swallow in the darkness. Instinctively, I reach out and squeeze her hand. Maisy doesn't say anything, but she squeezes back before she lets go.

We walk back to our camp in silence. I immediately crawl into the sleeping bag, exhausted from the day.

Maisy clambers in after me. Without hesitation, she snuggles up next to me, clutching the front of my shirt and burying her head in my shoulder. I hesitate for an instant, and then I put my arms around her. Maisy saved my life today; I at least owe her this.

My mind flashes briefly to Katniss, and my stomach twists with the memory of her cuddling in the cave with Peeta last year. I wonder what she is thinking now, of me doing something similar.

"Only this is different," I think savagely. "This isn't some ploy to win me the Games."

"Beside," I add, "what does Katniss care if I'm sharing a sleeping bag Maisy? She has Peeta, and she doesn't want me."

The thought fills me with a wave of sadness. But then I look down and see Maisy softly breathing in my arms, her beautiful hair spread out around her head and along my chest. "What does Katniss care?" I ask myself again before pulling Maisy closer and resting her head more comfortably on my chest.

I fall asleep a few minutes later, my hand entwined in Maisy's soft curls.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Gale, wake up!" I groggily open my eyes, heavy with exhaustion. "Get up!" Maisy hisses. I look around still disoriented. The sun is high overhead; it must be past noon.

I wake up with a jolt. How could I have slept so late? My mouth is fuzzy and stale with sleep. My jaw, shoulder, and gut ache with my injuries from the past few days. My stomach spasms with hunger.

"Wassgoin on?" I slur at Maisy. She is frantically packing her bag.

"Please, Gale!" her voice is pleading. "It's the Game makers. We have to go!" I finally am awake enough to look around properly. I lean over the edge of the ridge and see a roiling flood below. The valley is filling with water!

I look down and notice that there are a few inches of water already lapping at my boots. The sight galvanizes me to action. I pick up the sleeping bag and rapidly roll it into my pack. Maisy grabs the tarp while I sling my quiver and weapons over my shoulders.

"Come on!" I urge Maisy. "We have to get to higher ground."

"No!" she cries, securing her pack tightly on her back. "That's where the water is coming from!"

I run to the edge of the woods and look up. Sure enough, torrents of water are pouring from the ridges above us. Maisy was right. This water is no ordinary rain; the Game makers are sending gallons of water rushing towards us. Already, the water has reached my calves, sending icy tendrils up my legs.

"Our best chance is to get out of this part of the arena," Maisy says, leaning over the edge of the ridge to examine the flood below. The water is rising faster now, almost to her knees. She shivers. I'm not sure if it's form fear or cold.

"Can you swim?" I ask, measuring the distance from the ridge to the top of the rising the water.

"Well enough," Maisy answers, her voice tight.

That's all the signal I need. "Alright, if we get separated, we head for the stream." Maisy nods in affirmation. I grab her hand, take a deep breath, bend my knees, and jump.

I hit the water with icy force. The freezing cold knocks the wind out of me. I gasp for breath as iced knives jag through my body.

I've lost Maisy's hand during the force of the fall. I turn my head wildly, trying to get my bearings and to find Maisy. I see her a few feet away, but the churning water pulls me in all directions, hitting my face in icy waves.

"Come on!" Maisy pants out, starting to swim in the general direction of the stream. I try to follow her, but the cold has paralyzed my injured shoulder. I grit my teeth and force my shoulder to make a stroke. My back screams in protest, but I continue fighting the impossible pull of the current.

I keep swimming, gasping for breaths, and coughing as the unpredictable waves continue to crash into me, pushing me in different directions. Debris from the forest floats in the water, and twigs and stones scrape my face.

I dodge to avoid a large branch, when I hear Maisy's shout. I turn to my left, and see Maisy flailing her arms but not moving forward. The water is almost covering her mouth, and she struggles for breath.

Adrenaline shoots through me as I race towards her. When I reach her I hold onto a tree trunk to steady myself against the ebbs of the water. Maisy's eyes are wide with panic and I see her hands fumbling with a knife. Cold and fear make her hands shake.

"My pack," she croaks. I look down and see that one of the straps of her backpack has hopelessly tangled around one of the tree branches. The water continues to rise, covering Maisy's mouth.

I grab the knife from Maisy before it falls from her numb fingers. I hook my elbow around the tree to provide some stability. I know that hacking away at the strap blindly will only waste time that Maisy doesn't have.

Instead, I take a deep breath, stealing myself. Then, I plunge my head under the icy water so I can see the strap properly. The harsh cold assaults my face, and I'm sure my eyeballs have frozen in their sockets. With iron determination I grip the knife and begin sawing at the pack strap. It is difficult to cut the strap with one arm, and my injured shoulder screams with pain as I try to hold onto the tree trunk with it.

I surface three more times to gasp for air and restabilize myself on the tree trunk. The water has covered Maisy's nose by the time I cut through the strap, and the water jerks her away.

My hand darts out to grab her before she gets pulled too far away. Maisy coughs and flails. "I got you," I cough out, trying to calm her down. I hook my bad elbow under her neck and begin swimming with my right arm, trying to drag us both to safety. My arms ache with cold and burn with effort, but I continue kicking my numb legs. Maisy's jagged breaths tell me that she is still alive as I tow her through the choppy water.

After what seems like hours of struggling and fighting the random churnings of the icy water, a particularly large wave shoves me into a sharp rock. I feel the edge of the rock cut through my left thigh. I groan, my numb arms involuntarily releasing Maisy. My legs refuse to cooperate as I try to kick away from the rocks. The cold has comletely numbed my limbs, and my movements are too sluggish. The effort of kicking away from the rocks is draining what little energy I have left.

I barely feel Maisy's hand as she grabs a fistful of my jacket in her hand. She reaches her legs towards the rocks and pushes off. Her kick off the rocks is not very strong, but it has enough power to give us some momentum. I stroke with my arms and kick my sluggish legs, but I can feel that we are nearing the end of the dangerous part of the arena. The waves, while still ice cold, have lost some of their power, and the water level is decreasing.

A large wave pushes us towards the edge of the flood and deposits us in a coughing, soaked heap right at the clearing near the stream. Maisy and I crawl away from the woods, trying to put some distance between the flood and ourselves. I only manage to move forward a few feet before I flop onto my back, shivering and groaning. Maisy is next to me on all fours, shaking with cold and hacking painfully.

The sun by the stream is hot and high above, as though disaster doesn't await two feet away in the woods. I try to stretch out my limbs so they can be warmed in the sun. I barely notice Maisy unzipping her pack with shaking hands to pull out a water canteen. My teeth chatter painfully as Maisy takes a sip of water. Her hands are shaking so much that most of the water slops down her shirt. She pauses, still shivering. Then, she rushes on all fours towards the stream.

I hear a splash through the loud chattering of my teeth. I roll over miserably, no longer interested in what Maisy is doing, my mind focused solely on my frozen limbs. Why won't the sun warm me?

I'm trying to kick off my boots when Maisy runs up to me. She is dripping wet, wearing nothing but a light pink camisole and under shorts. But she looks _warm_, her skin blush with health and water droplets sparkling on her skin in the sun.

"Take off your clothes," she says eagerly, taking me completely by surprise. "It's the icy water. It's not normal. We have to wash it off in the stream!" she explains hurriedly. Without hesitation she grabs the bottom of my shirt and begins to hike it up my chest.

"I got it!" I say, still shivering, as I reflexively scoot away. I pull my shirt over my head and pull off my soggy pants, leaving my wet boxers on.

Maisy grabs my pile of waterlogged clothes and runs to the stream. I try to still my clacking teeth, but groan as cold still permeates all the way to my bones.

Maisy returns a few minutes later brandishing the water canteens. Without warning, she starts at my feet, pouring the water over my shivering body. Immediately, warmth seeps through my skin down to the depth of my being where the water splashes on my skin.

"Ahhh," I sigh in relief as Maisy pours the water up my arms and along my bare chest. Suddenly, I feel the heat of the sun as though an invisible barrier has been lifted.

"Close your eyes," Maisy says, grinning at my expression. I shut my eyes and enjoy the water washing away the chills in my face. All of a sudden I feel Maisy's gentle fingers run through my hair, massaging the fresh water into my scalp. My eyes roll back with pleasure as warm tingles radiate outwards from her touch.

"Flip over," she orders, and without thinking, I flop onto my stomach. She washes away the iciness there too, and my limbs melt in relief.

"Did I miss anywhere?" Maisy asks.

"No," I groan, hauling myself into a sitting position. "Maisy, that was amazing," I say, my whole body loose with contentment.

She throws me another grin. "Hold still. I have to clean off your leg."

I look down and see a nasty gash where I had swam into the rocks during the flood. "Don't bother," I say, feeling my stomach clenching painfully with hunger. "I have to go hunting before I collapse. We need to eat."

"Lie down," Maisy says, pushing on my good shoulder until my back hits the ground. "I hunted already. I thought I'd let you sleep off your injuries this morning and tried to go hunting." She struggles through her pack until she pulls out a bundle packed in the piece of cloth we had found in Eye Patch's bag. She unwraps the bundle to reveal messily cut cubes of cooked meat.

"Whoa," I say, sitting up in shock. The quick movement causes me to wince with the pain from being punched in the gut yesterday.

"It took me ages to kill anything and even longer to clean and cook it," Maisy explains with a pleased grin, "but I managed it." She offers me the bundle with a nervous smile.

I hungrily reach for the top piece and stuff it in my mouth. "It's perfect!" I say, so pleased that I have just received this unexpected pile of ready-made food.

Maisy blushes and picks up her own cube of meat. Just then, I chew something a little crunchy and choke slightly as I try to swallow it. I laugh at Maisy's horrified face. "Well, maybe it's not perfect. You need some practice cleaning meat, but it's still really good for your first try."

Maisy giggles, and we continue eating until the pile of meat has disappeared. I lay back in contentment, licking my fingers and basking in the warmth of the sun. Maisy rinses her fingers in the stream before returning with the water purifier.

"Hand me the med kit," Maisy says, unscrewing the top of the purifier.

"Huh?" I say lazily, looking around half-heartedly.

"By your head. Ugh, never mind," Maisy says in exasperation. She leans forward, pressing her hand into my chest as she stretches for the med kit. My mind clicks suddenly, taking in my bare chest, Maisy's warm hand, wet curls, and tiny camisole tight on her body. An electric shock ripples through my body.

"Whoa!" I say, jumping away from Maisy's touch.

"Did I hurt you?" Maisy asks, concern in her eyes.

"No," I mutter, mussing my hair in embarrassment. "You just can't…touch a guy like that. Without warning, I mean." My face is hot with embarrassment.

Maisy's eyebrows shoot up and a smile lifts at the corners of her mouth. "Oh right, sorry," she says, the sound of suppressed laughter ringing in her voice.

"Here," I say handing Maisy my pack roughly, not meeting her eyes. I scoot back down so I'm lying on my back again. Instead of making fun of me, Maisy busies herself with digging the bandages out of my bag.

"Here," she says, handing me the box of berries she collected yesterday. "They'll go bad in this heat."

I hide my awkwardness in noisily opening the box and picking out a handful of berries. I feel Maisy's hands wiping my leg and rinsing the cut with water. Her hands are gentle and assured.

I begin to relax in the warmth once I realize that Maisy won't mock me for jumping away from her before. My eyelids droop, and I examine Maisy under hooded lids. Her face is smoothed in concentration, her dark eyes focused on her work. Her hair glistens in the sun, curling as it dries. Maisy's pink camisole clings to her body, accentuating her curves.

My mind involuntarily flits to Katniss. She had never been good dealing with injuries, or anything involving gentleness, when it came to me. She was always elbows and sharp edges, reflexively pushing me away whenever there were hints that our relationship was moving beyond the bounds of friendship. "That's the way Katniss is," I think. "She's afraid of letting her guard down." Getting close to her had always been hard work.

But then I pause, knowing that that isn't quite true. I swallow hard, thinking of Katniss with Peeta. Yes, there were times during the Games where I could see her struggling to be open and intimate with Peeta, but there were also times where she leaned in to kiss him. There were times when she reached for him, her expression soft and her eyes lit with desire.

She had never looked at me that way. In fact, I'm fairly certain that she is repulsed by the idea.

I turn my eyes back to Maisy. She is so different from Katniss, with her gentle hands and shining curls spilling over her shoulders. I have always thought Katniss is beautiful, especially when she smiles. But compared with Katniss, Maisy is more mature in some ways, more of a woman. Katniss is all hard edges and defenses while Maisy is all softness and curves. I smile, laughing inwardly at my realization.

"What?" Maisy says, noticing my smile. "I'm not that bad at binding wounds, am I?"

"No," I say languorously, stretching out to get more comfortable. I wave my hand, indicating Maisy's wet, skimpy clothes and her focus on cleaning my leg. "I was just thinking that a guy could really get used to this."

"Gale Hawthorne!" Maisy says, scandalized. She swats at my chest, but the gesture is playful and she's smiling when she says, "You had better mind your manners." She tightens the bandage with a final tug. "There, all done."

I pull myself into a sitting position and examine the clean white bandages. "Looks good," I say. Maisy starts scooting away, but I grab her arm quickly. "Wait, let me get yours."

"What?" Maisy says.

"The cuts on your face." There are thin slivers of blood on Maisy's cheeks and along her hairline. "They must be from hitting all those little pebbles and twigs in the water."

I pick up the tube of analgesic and squirt some onto my sun-browned, calloused fingers. As gently as I can, I massage a little bit of gel onto each of the cuts. I have never looked at Maisy this closely before. She keeps her large eyes demurely down; her long lashes stark against her pale skin. We are quiet for a few minutes while I work.

"Thanks," she whispers finally, "for cutting me free back there. I thought I was going to drown."

I pause, looking at Maisy in surprise. Had she been thinking of that this whole time? "Well, it's the least I could do, after you saved me from Eye Patch yesterday," I say, resuming my cleaning of her wounds.

Maisy nods slightly, accepting my answer.

I swallow. "And I was kind of a jerk to you when the Games first started," I add quickly. Maisy's eyes meet mine then as she looks at me in surprise. I hold her gaze steadily, knowing I owe her an explanation. "I wasn't sure you'd hold up, and I was mad at myself for asking you to be partners." I clear my throat, "So sorry."

Maisy looks down again. "Why are you sorry? Because you found out that I can hold up?"

"Yeah," I say honestly. "I probably wouldn't be alive if you hadn't saved me yesterday. And with the hunting today and the bandages, you've been amazing." I pause. "Also, you're company isn't too bad," I mutter with a sheepish grin.

Instead of smiling at my joke, Maisy blushes a deep pink. It's adorable.

"All done," I say, reluctantly dropping my fingers from Maisy's cheek. I stay close to her though, somehow unwilling to break our sense of closeness and warmth just yet.

Maisy picks at the berries in the box before placing one in her mouth. I gulp, imagining the sweet juice exploding in her mouth.

"Did you mean what you said," Maisy asks unexpectedly, "at the interview with Caesar Flickermann…about you thinking I'm perfect?" her eyes meet mine hesitantly.

I lean back, trying to recall the interview. It seems like it was years ago. I remember Maisy at the opening ceremony, with her tight black dress and endless bare back.

"Yeah," I say without thinking, my mind full of the memory, "I did mean it."

"And the other thing…" Maisy continues with difficulty, "about you being a miner, and…not thinking we could be…close?" Maisy is blushing again.

My jaw hardens as I think back to my childhood and growing up without a father. I think of how I spent all my time worried about the kids and tesserrae and hunting. I never had time to really study for school like Maisy or learn to play the piano or even learn how to be sociable and friendly with other girls, leave aside merchants' daughters. I was always too busy taking care of my family. I had definitely noticed girls in school and around the Seam, but I had always thought I would end up with Katniss and so never made the effort to get close to any one else.

I look at Maisy delicate and beautiful in the sunlight, well versed in social graces, and before the Games destined to marry the son of a businessman with a fancy house and guaranteed fortune. What could I possibly offer a girl like her? She was untouchable. Not even a possibility.

"Yeah, I meant that too," I say, surprised by the bitterness lacing my voice.

"You shouldn't think that, you know," Maisy says quietly after a long pause, still picking at the berries. She looks up, "I'm not close to perfect. And, and you have a lot to offer…to any girl." She inhales quickly, shocked at what she has just said.

I am in shock too. "Maisy, I can hunt and survive in the woods just fine. But dealing with merchants and rich people, I would have no idea what to do!" I say in indignation. What does she know anyway? "I can't schmooze or talk politics all smooth at fancy parties. And courting merchant girls? I wouldn't know where to begin. I don't know anything about flowers and poetry and meeting parents. I sell them dead squirrels, for God's sake!"

I inhale sharply, surprised at my vehemence on the subject. I guess all my bitterness about growing up before my time is coming to a head. Maybe I'm just mad that I never had the time to learn about dating girls when I was too busy trying to keep my family from starving. And the one girl I did bother to learn about doesn't want me.

Maisy looks at me steadily. "Not every girl wants poetry and flowers," she says. "I think there are better ways to show someone that you care." I stare at her in amazement, spluttering for words. "I've seen you with your family, how you care for your little brothers and sister. You give of yourself, you know? You've given them all your time, all your hard work. What girl wouldn't want to be with someone like that?"

"Yeah, but who would want to move from a fancy house to live with a miner from the Seam? It's not worth it, not for anything!" I say, getting angry now. Maisy knows nothing about life in the Seam. No one would want to live that way.

"Well, if you win the Games, you won't be living in the Seam anymore."

That pulls me up short. I had been too focused on winning the Games to think about what I would do if I actually succeeded. Now I think about it.

I would no longer have to work in the mines, and my family would be taken care of so I wouldn't have to hunt. In fact, I would have all the time in the world to learn about girls, and maybe even merchant girls with my newfound wealth.

But I don't want merchant girls; I want Katniss. My mind starts to spin. But even if Katniss decides she loves me in that way too, a long shot at best, the Capitol is arranging her marriage to Peeta at this very moment. So what could I hope for? Sneaking over the hedges separating our houses to be with her when Peeta isn't home? There's not much relationship in that. Even if we ever did manage to have kids, Peeta would have to raise them as his own.

The thought is like cold lead in my stomach. There is no way I can be with Katniss. It's just not possible.

I had set my heart on Katniss for so long that I couldn't really imagine ending up with any other girl. But then I pause. I had never really gotten to know any other girls either. Until now. I look at Maisy and think about how we've gotten along pretty well so far. She's beautiful and resourceful and even-tempered. She even managed to smooth down my rage at the beginning of the Games, something Katniss would never have done. She would rather scream at me or stalk off; we are alike that way. Compared to being with Katniss, being with Maisy is so _easy_.

Maybe I could find another girl. My mind balks at the thought, but I force myself to think about it. If there is no way I can be with Katniss, and I manage to let her go somehow, maybe I can have a future with someone sweet and pretty and loving, someone like Maisy. There are a lot of ifs in that statement, but it gives me a glimmer of hope anyway.

"Well?" Maisy says, still waiting for my response. I look at her in confusion; I had forgotten the question. "Why wouldn't a girl want to move with you to Victor's Village?" she repeats.

"Oh!" I say and smile. "Because then I would never know if she's only with me for my money."

Maisy vehemently shakes her head in frustration. She reaches out a hand to my face and forces me to look into her eyes. "Gale," she says, "don't you know your own worth?"

My mouth falls open in surprise. My worth? I splutter to answer, "Of course, I can set snares and hunt and survive, and…and that's it," I finish lamely, looking down.

"No that's not it," Maisy says forcing my head up again. "Trust me. As a girl who knows you, I am telling you that you could have any girl in District 12."

I think of Katniss and my heart sinks. "Not any girl," I say quietly.

Maisy drops her hand but continues to give me a hard look. "You can be such an idiot sometimes," she says. Then she gets up and walks towards the stream. I flinch in protest, as she takes her warmth with her.

All of a sudden, a pair of pants hits me in the face, followed by a shirt and jacket. I look up and realize that Maisy has tossed me my clothes, dried after their wash in the stream.

"Thanks!" I call churlishly, but I get up and start pulling them on. Maisy is right; we should probably get moving again.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Just a quick thanks to hungergameslaura31, The Tester, guildam595, Wannabe Imprintee, and WhisperedWords12 for your wonderful and helpful reviews…I appreciate all of them. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

"So what now?" Maisy asks, once we've both dressed and packed up our gear.

I stand dumbly, thinking for a minute. "We'll have to find a new place to sleep," I say finally. "It's too dangerous by the ridges."

"Should we head east?" Maisy asks. "As far as we know, the Careers are by the mountain; we should probably head in the opposite direction."

"Sure," I say, nodding in approval. I take a quick look up at the sun. "There are still a few hours of daylight left. Maybe we can set up some snares too." Maisy nods and indicates with her hand that I should take the lead. I start forward, making my way into the underbrush.

We walk through the woods in companiable silence for a while, the first time that I haven't felt tense and on edge during these Games. I keep my eyes and ears open though, in case we stumble upon a water source…or another tribute.

When we reach a particularly dense patch of woods, I stop and begin unzipping my pack. "We can set up some snares here," I tell Maisy. "The vegetation is so thick that there must be all kinds of game wandering around. Here," I say, taking the rope out of my bag. "You keep watch while I start setting these up."

Maisy nods and stands in the shadow of a pair of trees, keeping an eye out for any surprises. After I've set up three snares, I turn towards Maisy. "You want to do the rest?" I ask, stretching my hand with the remaining rope towards her.

"Really?" Maisy says, a hint of excitement in her voice.

I crack a smile," Yeah, go ahead. I'll make sure you do them right."

Maisy takes the rope from me and uses her knife to saw off a piece of sufficient length. I watch her closely, but also turn my eyes to scan the woods every few minutes. Maisy ties the rope slowly and methodically. She takes longer than I would to set up her first snare, but as far as I can tell, the snare looks sound.

Watching Maisy work with the snares reminds me of the time we spent in training before the Games. It seems so long ago that I was worrying about not getting to show the Game makers my skill with snares during my private session. Then I remember something with a start.

"Where did you learn hand-to-hand combat?" I ask suddenly.

"What?" Maisy looks up in surprise, her cheeks tinged with pink.

"I was just thinking about our private sessions with the Game makers and how Haymitch said you were good with hand-to-hand combat." I explain. "Where could you possibly have learned that?"

Maisy looks down at the rope in her hands. She seems hesitant to answer, or maybe she is trying to arrange her thoughts.

"My dad," Maisy says finally. She starts working on the snare again without looking up.

"Your dad?" I say incredulously. "I thought he was kind of a jerk. Why would he teach you how to fight? Self-defense?" I ask, trying to figure it out.

Maisy ducks her head, her cheeks getting even redder. She doesn't answer my question. "Why would you say my dad is a jerk? Just because he has a monopoly on mining equipment?" she asks angrily.

"No." I hesitate. Maisy doesn't know that Haymitch told me about her dad. I don't want to embarrass her by telling her that I know about the abuse, but I do want her to know that I support her and really hate her dad for what he's done. "Haymitch told me about his drinking," I finally say, "and how he treats you." I hesitate, wondering how Maisy will respond.

Maisy's head whips up. "What do you mean, how he treats me?" she demands, her eyes narrowing.

I think of all the cameras trained on the two of us right now and all the citizens of Panem watching. Clenching my jaw, I realize that now is my chance to expose Mr. Harper, to make him pay for all the pain he's caused Maisy. "Haymitch told me about how your dad hits you," I say clearly, hoping that the cameras catch every word.

"He told you that?" Maisy whispers, her face pale.

"Yeah," I say firmly, stepping towards Maisy. "And I think your dad is an idiot for not realizing what kind of daughter he has."

Maisy doesn't answer, but stares at me for a few seconds. Finally she looks down. "Well it's not all bad," she says, trying to give me a brave smile. "I've been fighting him off for years. So I guess I never really _learned_ hand-to-hand combat, I just sort of figured out how to defend myself after all this time."

My mouth falls open in shock. "_That's_ how you learned?" I ask in amazement, "by actually fighting off your dad?"

Maisy nods, looping the end of the final snare around a tree branch. "Yeah, so I guess some good came out of it after all. I mean, if I didn't learn how to fight, I would never have scored so well with the Game makers and you would never have asked to be my partner."

I'm shocked into silence by Maisy's twisted logic, and she continues, "Besides, it doesn't matter any more," she says. She pulls at the snare, testing the strength of the knot she's tied around the tree branch. "Either I win the Games and move out of my dad's house, or I'll die here. Either way, I won't ever have to see him again."

She tries to keep up a strong front, but I can see moisture pooling in her eyes. "Maisy…" I murmur, stepping towards her again. I'm not sure what to say, but I have to say something.

"Forget it, Gale," Maisy says, brushing past me. "My dad doesn't matter. It's going to be dark in a few hours and we still have to find somewhere to sleep." She picks up her pack, which she had dropped on the ground a few feet away.

For several seconds I debate whether I should say something about her dad, but then I let it go. If she doesn't want to talk about him, I can't really blame her. And she's right: Mr. Harper doesn't matter anymore.

I pick up my pack and rearrange my weapons on my back, giving Maisy a moment to compose herself. When I look up again, her eyes are clear and her jaw is set in determination. "Come on," I say, "let's keep moving."

I turn around and lead the way through the underbrush, and I hear Maisy's steps as she falls into line behind me. We walk for another half hour before we break through the trees into a small clearing. I stop abruptly, not believing our luck. There's a small pond nestled under a profusion of water grasses and lily pads.

"Well I guess we should camp around here," I say. "This water is too good to give up."

I look over at Maisy and am rewarded with a smile. "Let's fill the bottles," she says. "Then we can set up camp."

I nod and pull my pack off my arm. I am about to unzip the bag, when I hear the sound of a branch cracking loudly not far from us. Uneven footsteps shuffle through the underbrush on the other side of the pond.

"Come on," I whisper fiercely, grabbing Maisy by the wrist and pulling her quickly into the trees behind us. We crouch low in the shadow of the trees. Our breathing sounds loud in my ears.

"I know the water is this way. Come on!" I hear a girl say. A moment later, two dirty figures limp out of the woods and into the clearing. With a start I realize that they are the twins from District 4; their blond hair is covered in mud and there are cuts all over their hands and faces.

"I told you," the girl says triumphantly, dropping her supplies on the ground as she falls to her knees and scoops up some water to wash her face.

"Yeah, you just know everything," the boy says wearily, sinking down next to his sister and gulping some water.

After a moment of silence, in which both twins slurp from the pond greedily, the boy looks up at the sky. "We have to keep moving," he says. "It's too dangerous to camp out here tonight."

"No," the girl says sullenly. "We're far enough from the mud slide, and I'm too tired to go any further. Let's just stay here so I can take a bath."

The girl's tiredness seems to give energy to her brother. He stands up swiftly and grabs her upper arm, trying to pull her to her feet. "Dammit, Zell, come on!" he says. "We almost died in the mud slide this morning; I don't want to be anywhere near here any more."

I turn to Maisy in surprise. She is looking at me, her eyes wide. I guess we weren't the only tributes that the Game makers attacked this morning.

"Yeah, but we didn't die," the girl is arguing back. "The mud slide really wasn't even that bad. Those other two kids only died because they were half-starved already. We'll be fine here!'

I hear Maisy inhale sharply next to me. I am taken aback too. Two more tributes have died today, but Maisy and I must have missed the cannon blasts when we were trying to escape the flood.

"Zell, I said we're going. So let's go!" the boy is shouting now.

"No!" the girl yells back.

"Come on!" he screams, wrenching her to her feet.

"I said no!" the girl shrieks. She lunges at her brother, lashing out her hand and ripping jagged gashes in his cheek with her nails. Maisy and I both gasp. The boy goes reeling. As he does, I see similar scratches along his arm. The twins must have fought like this before.

"You idiot!" he pants, leaning his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Blood drips from his cheek. All of a sudden he bursts forward, grabbing his sister by the neck and punching her in the jaw with a crack that echoes through the forest. The girl staggers forward, but as she does she kicks out a leg, sweeping it under her brother and dropping him to the ground. With a piercing scream she leaps on him, punching him and pulling his hair.

"Gale, please let's get out of here," Maisy whispers in my ear, horror lacing her voice, but I can't seem to look away from the twins. The brother has managed to push his sister off of him and is now punching her ruthlessly in the mud.

"We can't just leave them here," I whisper back. I reach a hand back to pull an arrow out of my quiver. Both tributes are so distracted, they'll be dead before they know what hit them.

"No," Maisy whispers back desperately. "Please let's leave. They'll kill each other eventually."

"You don't know that," I say risking a quick glance at Maisy. "We have to take them out."

I hold Maisy's gaze until she closes her eyes and nods. Then I turn back to the twins. The brother is definitely the stronger of the two so I aim my first arrow at him. I still my hands, take a deep breath, and let the arrow fly.

My aim is good, and the arrow buries itself deep in the boy's throat. His body stiffens and his eyes widen in shock. He coughs painfully, and blood spills out of his mouth. Then he lurches forward, finally collapsing on top of his sister. A cannon sounds in the distance.

I've already notched the second arrow by the time the boy's sister has realized what's happened. She screams in terror, pushing her brother off of her.

"NO!" she screeches. "No, Zach, NO!" She follows the trajectory of the arrow and our eyes meet. "I'll kill you!" she shrieks, struggling up and sloshing through the pond towards me.

I hadn't expected her to react so fast, and I fumble in my hurry to release the arrow. It flies just wide.

The girl is out of the pond and is charging towards us. "Crap, Maisy, run!" I say, my hands scrabbling for another arrow. My damn injured arm is too slow, and the girl is bearing down on us, shrieking like a madwoman, her muddy blond hair flying wildly in every direction.

I'm about to turn tail and run, when a knife whistles out of Maisy's hand and thuds in the girl's gut. She stumbles forward but doesn't fall.

"You killed my brother!" she yells, coughing up blood. "I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!" With one hand on her wound, the girl continues towards us, stumbling drunkenly. This time I take my time and aim carefully. I release the arrow at the same time as Maisy releases another knife. The knife lodges in the girl's chest, and the arrow protrudes from her throat.

"You killed my brother," the girl rasps out, wavering on her feet. "My brother," she gasps one more time, before tripping on a root and sprawling face-first on the ground, her eyes still open and staring at us, ice blue against her ghostly skin. The cannon goes off a second time.

"Come on, Maisy, let's move!" I say, wrenching my eyes away from the dead girl. Now is not the time to dwell on the double murder we've just committed. I run forward, and flip over the dead girl, quickly pulling the arrow and knives out of her body with sickening squelches. I hear the drone of the hovercraft above. Without looking up, I drop the girl's body back into the mud with a wince. I want to retrieve my other arrows, and the twins' supplies, but they are on the other side of the pond. My heart is still pounding from my encounter with the girl, and I can't make it over the pond and back before the hovercraft comes down.

I turn away from the boy, and my two precious arrows. With the weapons I do have clasped firmly in my hand, I run towards our hiding place. Maisy hasn't moved.

"Get up! Let's go!" I say, running towards her. I skid to a stop next to her. Why won't she move?

"Gale, I can't. I think I'm going to be sick," she says weakly. She does look a little green.

"No! Not now," I say roughly. "We have to go before someone else finds us." I reach down with my free hand and pull Maisy to her feet. "Don't think. Just run. Come on." I start pulling Maisy through the trees, trying to put distance between the two of us and the two dead bodies.

Maisy stumbles at first, but eventually finds her feet. The two of us sprint away from the pond, not bothering to keep quiet. I'm terrified of the girl's haunting eyes, and all I can think is that I have to get away from that damn pond.

With unspoken agreement, we both race towards the stream where we had found comfort and peace this morning. We both skid into the clearing near our stream and collapse, panting by the water.

Just then, the cannon sounds two more times. I feel Maisy start next to me.

"What is going on?" I gasp out, and I even I can hear the panic at the edge of my voice.

"It's the Career pack. It has to be," Maisy pants back. "There are only a few of us left; they must have broken up their group when they heard the twins' cannons go off."

My head is spinning and I feel ill. I lean back against a rock and rest my head. I close my eyes trying to get my bearings on the situation. My head aches so much I can't think and I finally just ask Maisy, "So wait, which tributes are left?"

Still panting, Maisy falls down next to me, leaning her back on the rock. She counts off on her fingers. "Well, this morning there were eight remaining tributes, plus you and me. Two tributes died in the mudslide, and we just killed the twins. That leaves only one tribute aside from the two of us and the Career pack."

"Yeah, but the Career pack just broke up," I say, following her logic. "If two of them just died…" I struggle for a moment with the mental math, "…That means there are only five tributes left."

I inhale quickly at my words. Only five tributes left?

"Wow, that happened fast," Maisy says, putting my thoughts into words.

She runs a hand through her hair, letting her curls fall out of their tie and swing down her back. "Yeah, but that's right," she says, counting on her fingers again. "You, me, two Careers, and one other tribute."

"The two Careers…" I say. "Who do you think's left?"

"Magnus," Maisy says without hesitation. "No one could have taken him down in such a short amount of time." She pauses. "The other one…"

"Shard," I say, finishing her sentence. We look at each other. Maisy's eyes are wide with fear.

"Shard," she sighs.

"No use worrying about it now," I say. I nod my head towards the setting sun. "We'll find out in a few minutes anyways."

"Where should we go?" Maisy asks. "We can't go back to the pond. The twins said that the Game makers had mud slides set up over there."

"We might as well go back to the ridges," I reply with a sigh. "We know they're relatively safe and protected, and the Game makers probably won't send another flood tonight. It's already been done…it'd be too boring for the viewers."

"Alright," Maisy says, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "As long as the viewers are happy."

All of a sudden, a wave of weariness washes over me. The day has been so exhausting, and the thought of facing Magnus and Shard in the morning seems impossible. All of my injuries from the past few days seem to throb painfully. My muscles are numb with exhaustion. All I want to do is fall asleep and escape this horrible nightmare.

Maisy struggles to her feet and stretches down a hand to help me up. I close my eyes for a moment before gathering my resolve and taking her hand. The two of us make our way slowly to our camp along the ridgeline. We have barely finished setting up camp when the Capitol fanfare begins to play.

Both of us make our way numbly to the edge of the tree line and look up into the sky. I swallow nervously, thinking of Shard's arrogance, speed, and skill with weapons. I close my eyes and will Shard's face to appear in the sky.

Maisy gasps and my eyes fly open. There, in the sky, his eyes boring into mine, is Magnus.

"Magnus is dead," Maisy whispers.

"And Shard is alive," I say wearily. "But Magnus was one of the strongest competitors; at least he's dead now."

"But that makes it worse," Maisy says as the face of the Career from District 3 flashes in the sky. "If Shard could kill Magnus so easily. I mean…" Maisy leaves the sentence unfinished, but with a lurch in my stomach I'm pretty sure I understand her meaning. There was no more than twenty minutes between the time we killed the twins and the time that Magnus died. If Shard could take out Magnus so quickly, we don't stand a chance.

One by one, the faces of the twins appear in the sky. I close my eyes, trying to block out their matching ice blue eyes and platinum blond hair. But I can't shut out the picture of the siblings gratefully slurping from the pond, their savage fight with each other, and the sister's immediate loyalty change when I killed her brother. I can't shake the image of the girl dying in the mud, her dead, hateful eyes boring into me. The memory sickens me.

"Let's go back," Maisy says, slipping her hand into mine and pulling me towards our camp. I look up at the sky and see only darkness; I must have missed the last dead tribute. Maisy must realize this because she says, "It's just you, me, Shard, Vane, and Slither, from District 7."

I have no idea how Maisy is keeping track of all the tributes, and honestly I don't really care. My head is throbbing, and all I want to do is sleep.

Maisy and I shuffle into the sleeping bag in silence. Maisy immediately snuggles up to my side and falls asleep, her head on my chest and her hands curled at my side.

I close my eyes and will sleep to come, but somehow my mind keeps racing in circles. "Shard, Vane, Slither. Shard, Vane, Slither." My mind repeats the list over and over again. These are the tributes I have to kill in order to win the Games.

Vane and Slither shouldn't be an issue; if they are by the mountain end of the arena, Shard might even kill one or both of them in the next few hours.

But then I will have to kill Shard.

My mind continues to race, comparing his strengths to mine. I come out the loser in all comparisons except one. My greatest strength is animal traps and snares. I could take advantage of that by setting up human snares all around our camp. Dig ditches. Lay traps for Shard. He's at least a day away if he's near the mountain; I should have time to prepare for him. I can kill the other two tributes if I come across them, and spend the rest of my time hunting, gaining strength, and preparing for a showdown with Shard.

As I lay in the dark formulating my plan, I begin to gain confidence. Shard's one weakness is his arrogance. He probably thinks all of the remaining tributes are trying to hide from him. He'll never expect the array of traps I have planned. It's my only chance, and it could work. If I can weaken Shard, trap him in a corner, and ambush him, I could even out our abilities. I could even take him down.

I let out a sigh and close my eyes again, feeling more ready than afraid now that I have a plan. "Shard, Vane, Slither," I repeat, falling into an uneasy sleep.

My dreams are filled with slithering snakes, Shard's arrogant laugh, and the ice blue eyes of the twins. I wake up a few hours later, feeling uncomfortable and unrested. It's still dark outside though light is just beginning to peek over the horizon. I groan inwardly in frustration, knowing that I need sleep in order to survive the next few days. I must have made some kind of sudden movement because Maisy twitches next to me in her sleep, her hands curling into the fabric of my shirt.

I look down at her and a sudden sick thought runs through my mind. I don't have to kill Shard, Vane, and Slither. I have to kill Shard, Vane, Slither, and _Maisy_. The realization is like a punch in the gut. How could I have forgotten? I stare down at Maisy, her black lashes dark against her pale skin and her full lips opened softly in sleep. Her glossy hair curls around her face, and her fingers twitch slightly, betraying her uneasy dreams.

Suddenly, I feel a wave of restlessness wash over me, and I know that I can't lay here sharing a sleeping bag with this girl that I have to kill. I carefully extricate myself from under Maisy, lifting her head off of my shoulder and laying it on the ground so that she won't wake up.

Once out of the sleeping bag, I pace along the length of our camp, running my hand through my hair and thinking wildly about killing Maisy. I don't want to, but I have to, I tell myself again and again. It's the only way I can win.

For a moment, I consider running off and leaving Maisy here for one of the other tributes to find. But I immediately reject the idea as too cruel. I can't explain it, but I hate the idea of Maisy feeling betrayed when she wakes up in the morning to find me gone.

But Maisy has to die. It's inevitable. She has to die so that I can live, so that I can win. Either I betray her by leaving, or I kill her myself; there is no other way. I pull a knife from my belt and look at it thoughtfully. I could make it quick, do it right now while she's sleeping. She would never know, never feel the pain.

I swallow hard, trying to strengthen my resolve. That's it: I have to kill Maisy right now.

My hands are sweaty so I wipe my palms on my pants before gripping the knife firmly in my right hand. I walk quickly over to Maisy, who is lying on her back, still sleeping soundly. Her neck, pale in the moonlight, is stretched back, elongated and exposed.

Beads of sweat form along my forehead as I look at her. "Do it quickly," I whisper to myself sternly. "Don't think about it."

I grip the knife tightly in my fist and lean down next to Maisy. I lift the knife and place the point right above her neck. My hand is shaking, and the point of the knife wavers wildly. Breathing hard, I try to steady the knife. "Do it. Just do it," I tell myself, gripping the knife with two hands.

But I can't seem to strike. I stare at Maisy, defenseless and unaware in the moonlight. Now is the perfect time to kill her, but my hands don't want to cooperate.

All of a sudden, Maisy sighs in her sleep and shifts slightly. A sound escapes from the back of my throat, and Maisy's eyes open.

"Hey," she says sleepily, confused at the intensity of my stare. Then her eyes flit down to the knife and grow wide. "Oh!" Maisy says in surprise, fully awake now as she tries to scrabble away. "Oh!" she says again, breathing hard.

I raise the knife. I have to strike now.

Maisy's eyes dart from my eyes back to the knife. She stops trying to struggle out of the sleeping bag. Instead, she swallows and looks me in the eyes. "Do it," she whispers, her voice cracking.

"What?" I say in a strained voice.

Maisy licks her lips nervously and stares at the knife. "You're right," she says quickly, her voice nervous. "There are only five of us left. You should just do it. Kill me."

My knuckles are white under the strain of holding the knife in place, my eyes never leaving hers. "Are you crazy?" I force out. "Aren't you even going to fight me?"

Maisy swallows. "You know I can't beat you. Even if I could, I wouldn't be able to kill you. I couldn't live with it." Maisy swallows again, her eyes dart back to me. "You're a hunter, a survivor. You can live with this."

"Maisy…" I say, sweat dripping down my forehead now, guilt curling in my gut. What kind of person does she think I am that she said I could live with this? What kind of person am I that I'm even considering this plan?

"Don't worry," Maisy's voice breaks. "I'll get to see my mom again." Her eyes are moist with tears now. "Just make it quick," she says before squeezing her eyes shut. Maisy throws back her head, exposing her neck to the knife. Tears leak out the sides of her eyes, and her jaw twitches as she anticipates the coming blow.

I raise the knife again, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The blade glints in the moonlight. I stare at Maisy's pale neck for another minute, willing myself to stab into it. But my sweaty hands slip along the hilt of the blade, and I finally drop the knife.

Maisy's eyes fly open. "Gale, what are you doing?" she whispers desperately.

I run my hands through my hair. "I can't kill you," I say shakily, staring at the knife lying in the dirt. I just gave away my one chance to kill Maisy Harper, but somehow I feel relieved.

"What?" Maisy asks, her voice trembling.

"I can't. Don't ask me to…I can't."

I look up and notice the trace of tears glittering along Maisy's cheek. I reach out a shaking hand and gently wipe away the salty tracks with my thumb. "I couldn't live with it either," I say, looking into her eyes helplessly.

Maisy is staring back at me, her wide eyes glittering in the moonlight. Her soft pink lips are trembling, parted slightly in surprise. Her hair, still mussed from sleep, falls in messy waves around her shoulders. A slight pink tinges her cheeks.

Without thinking, I strengthen my hold on Maisy's face, and bring it towards me. I feel the warmth of Maisy's surprised breath on my cheek before her lips touch mine.

I kiss her gently at first, feeling the warmth and softness of her lips as she presses them against me. Maisy shivers and her body melts towards me. I slide my other hand around her waist to the small of her back and pull her closer.

To my surprise, Maisy snakes her hands up my chest and around my neck, twining her fingers in my hair. Tingles of pleasure radiate out from her touch and send shivers down my spine. I run both my hands along her back, pressing her curves against the length of my body. Maisy pulls at my neck, drawing me closer and deepening the kiss.

I slide my hands up farther, tangling them in her luscious hair. I move away from her lips, and bury my face in Maisy's curls, inhaling their scent. Maisy lets out a soft moan, and I feel her fingers curl with pleasure at the base of my neck. I skim my nose along Maisy's cheek and kiss her again. I splay my fingers out in her hair, drawing her into the kiss. Maisy's lips part, and I press harder, tasting her for the first time. Maisy let's out another groan, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt and pulling me closer, sending a hot punch of desire rushing through me.

Crushed up against her, my senses are full of Maisy: the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips moving under mine, the taste of her. But I still want her closer.

I desperately trace my way, planting deep kisses along her jaw and down her neck, slowly sliding my hands up her sides and along her collarbone. I kiss the base of Maisy's neck and feel her heart pounding hot and fast beneath my lips. I pause to enjoy the sensation, breathing hard. I keep my lips on her pulse point, and bring her hair up to my nose. Suddenly, I become aware of the heat radiating off of Maisy. She clings to the back of my shirt, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasps for air.

As I come to my senses, a sudden surge of guilt twists my stomach. I had just held a knife to Maisy's throat and then mauled her with kisses. I had taken advantage of her in her most vulnerable state. Or worse, maybe she only responded to my kisses because she thought it would save her life. Shame washes over and I pull back abruptly, feeling a rush of cold air as we separate. Maisy still hold on to my shirt so I can't back away fully.

"Maisy…" I say, not sure how I can make this better. I can't meet her eye. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have," I whisper miserably, twisting my hands in my lap. I've never felt so guilty in my life. "I took advantage…"

I try to say more, but Maisy's raises her fingers and presses them to my lips, silencing me. I look up in surprise, and our eyes connect.

A hint of a smile plays around the edges of her lips. She looks into my eyes. "Gale Hawthorne, don't you dare apologize."

My mouth falls open.

Maisy's face breaks into one of her radiant smiles. Her laugh is like silver bells ringing in the forest.

I exhale in shock as Maisy lowers her fingers and leans in towards me, her eyes dark with desire. I close my eyes and feel Maisy kiss me again.

I laugh against Maisy's lips in disbelief and I can feel her answering smile as she continues to press against me. Her nails trace exquisite patterns up and down my arms, and a sense of pure joy I've never felt before bubbles up within me. With a triumphant laugh I put my hands on Maisy's hips and fall backwards onto the sleeping bag, pulling her on top of me. Maisy exhales in surprise but quickly realizes what I'm doing. She wraps her arms around my neck and lowers her lips towards me, her hair cascading around us in a curtain, blocking out everything else. I anchor Maisy's face with one hand and hold on to her waist with the other. Shivers of heat spiral through me where I feel her hip grinding against me, moving in time with the press of her kisses.

For a few minutes we are silent, enjoying the feel of each other. The only sounds are the rustle of fabric as Maisy shifts on top of me and the groans occasionally escaping from the back of my throat. Suddenly, I hear the hoot of a bird and the movement of leaves overhead, bringing me back to my senses. I pull back for a second, but Maisy doesn't seem to notice. She shifts her head, moving her lips along my jaw line. I gasp for air, desperately trying to clear my head.

"Maisy," I say, my voice cracking. "We have to get Shard."

"Who?" Maisy jokes, and I can feel her smile as she continues kissing my jaw and neck.

I'm having trouble focusing. "You know, tall, mean, trying to kill us, ahhh—" Maisy nibbles my ear lobe, sending a hot wave of desire rippling through me. What was I just saying?

"Oh him," Maisy says, returning to my lips and covering them with her own. I close my eyes, forgetting about Shard entirely. Fireworks of heat explode all over my body, and all I can feel is the movement of Maisy's lips, her teeth scraping against mine as she presses into me, the gentle pressure as she sucks on my lower lip.

Suddenly, she pulls back into a sitting position straddling me with her legs. "Alright, let's go get Shard," she says matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" I say, confused, my lips swollen and languorous, my mouth still full of the taste of her.

Maisy swings her leg over me, shaking my hands off of her hips, and gets up. "Come on, let's go get him," she says, her eyes laughing at my confusion.

"Now?" I say, making a grab for Maisy's ankle.

"Yep," Maisy answers, shrugging me off easily. She picks up her bag and starts to pack.

I lay for a moment longer on my back, trying to cool down.

I sigh when I realize Maisy isn't coming back. "Alright," I say finally, pushing myself off the ground. "Let's go get Shard."

A/N Well I've never written anything like this before: killer twins, Gale's tortured thoughts at night, and a kissing scene! Please let me know what you think!!


	13. Chapter 13

I should be nervous, walking through the forest, but somehow I feel elated and…free. Shard is at least a day's hike away, the sun is shining, and I can hear Maisy's footsteps behind me as we walk through the forest. I shake myself, trying to remember to stay focused and alert, but I can't quite manage it. A small smile plays around my lips.

Maisy and I haven't talked much since this morning, just cursory plans to collect game from our snares and eat properly before going after the final three tributes. But it's not like after I kissed Katniss, when neither of us acknowledged what had happened because I was too afraid, and Katniss…well, I still don't know what Katniss thought about it, but I'm pretty sure it couldn't have been good.

No, this is more like comfortable silence. I think back to Maisy's smile before she kissed me, the happiness that unexpectedly welled up in me. I never expected to find a girl pretty after Katniss, leave aside connect with her. But I'm also not one to question when something good comes into my life. It happens little enough.

I'm surprised that I'm able to move on from Katniss so easily, but Maisy is so different from Katniss in many ways. Maybe that's why I like her. She's full of surprises, where I already know everything about Katniss, she is communicative where Katniss can be bristling and close-lipped, she is soft and sweet where Katniss is uncomfortable and hard-edged, and she seems to like me whereas Katniss, well…doesn't. At least not in that way.

And the way she kisses…there was no fear or hesitation there. I warm at the memory. We got farther in ten minutes than Peeta ever did with Katniss. I can't help but grin. Take that, stupid Mellark.

I'm contemplating sharing this thought with Maisy, more to embarrass Peeta on live television than anything else, when I hear a loud thud and a surprised cry from Maisy.

I whip around, already pulling an arrow out of my quiver. What I see leaves me momentarily breathless. Maisy is sprawled face-first on the ground, and a pale, wild-haired girl is racing towards me with a club.

Before I can react, Maisy's arm flashes out towards the girl's leg. I see a shower of blood spray out from her ankle, and the girl stumbles forward. I can finally breath, knowing that Maisy is alive. The girl's fall gives me the seconds I need to aim carefully and let the arrow fly. It lodges in the girl's neck, and I feel grimly satisfied. She falls to her knees, clutching her neck and gurgling. I nimbly move towards the girl with my knife drawn as she grabs the tree next to her for support.

"No, please…" she scratches out, a spurt of blood pulsing out of the wound in her throat with each word.

I walk behind the girl twitching and heaving in front of me. I grit my teeth and pull the girls jaw up and back with my left hand, exposing her neck. She lets out a shrill panting sound and scrabbles weakly at my hand. I close my eyes, strengthen my grip on the knife in my right hand, and swiftly arc it through her neck. I hold the girl until she stops convulsing, and then slowly lower her to the ground. I wince as the cannon sounds in the distance.

"So I guess that was Slither," I say uncomfortably, still panting. I turn towards Maisy, waiting for her response. That's when I realize that Maisy hasn't moved. She's still lying in the dirt, her face pressed into the mud and covered with her disheveled curls.

"Oh my God, Maisy!" I say in panic, running towards her. I fall down on my knees next to her and push her damp hair out of her face. I gulp when I see how pale her skin is.

"Maisy," I say, gently placing a hand on her cheek and trying to turn her head. "Maisy, please, can you hear me?"

I let out a sigh of relief as Maisy weakly nods. Her eyes open slightly and she swallows. "My back," her voice cracks. She tries to push herself up, but only makes it up a few inches before groaning and falling back down, her eyes closed tightly in pain.

"Hold still. I have to check it." I can hear the hovercraft droning above us, but I know I can't move Maisy out of the way in time. "Just calm down. I'm going to look at your back," I say. Maisy grimaces in response, and I scoot away from her head.

I take a deep breath and gently lift the hem of her shirt. Maisy is lying on her stomach, and I can't get the shirt up high enough. I slide my other hand under her hipbone and press lightly. "Up you go," I say, trying to keep my voice light. Maisy struggles to push herself up, and I quickly slide her shirt the rest of the way up so I can see her injury.

She flops back down and I try not to gasp. Slither must have slammed Maisy with her club from behind. A huge purple and yellow bruise has blossomed along her back from her right hipbone to her left shoulder blade. Blood leaks out sluggishly from several cuts where the force of the blow has broken through Maisy's skin. No wonder she can't get up yet, I'm surprised Slither didn't crack her spine with that hit.

"Gale?" Maisy asks, her voice wavering.

"You'll be fine, but it'll hurt like hell for a while," I say honestly.

"I'm sorry," Maisy answers. "I wasn't paying much attention, and I didn't hear her coming."

I smile as I dig through my pack, looking for our medical supplies. "I was pretty distracted too," I say, "thinking about this morning." I flash her a cheeky grin.

"Ugh, Gale, that isn't funny," Maisy protests. I find the tube of analgesic gel and squeeze out the last remnants of it to use on the cuts on her back. "I'm always slowing you down, and now you have to take care of my stupid back too!"

"What?" I say, pausing in surprise. "Maisy," I say, locking eyes with her so I'm sure she'll understand what I'm saying. "Slither slammed you in the back with a club. How could you have seen her coming?" Maisy makes a move to protest, but I put up a hand to stop her. "If you hadn't slashed that girl's ankle, she probably would have gotten me too. You've saved my life and I've saved yours. That's why we're allies, and I don't want to hear any more about it."

"But-"

"No more," I cut her off sternly, and for good measure I throw in the scowl I use to get my siblings to listen to me.

"Oh fine," she says, flopping her head back to the ground in resignation. "I'm too tired to argue. Are you done yet?"

"Almost," I say, rubbing the last of the analgesic gel onto the cuts. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"No," Maisy says, but she tightens her jaw and pushes up onto her elbows. I grab her around the waist and haul her up into a sitting position.

"Hold on a minute," I say as she tilts forward, drawing her knees up and laying her head wearily on them. "I want to tie up your back to give it some support." Maisy nods without saying anything, and I dig through my pack to get the bandages. My hand accidentally hits the bottle of energy pills that we found on Eye Patch a few days ago. I twist open the bottle and pour two into my hand.

"Here, take these," I say, giving them to Maisy.

"Energy pills?" Maisy says incredulously.

"Well they can't hurt," I answer, more defensively than I would have liked.

Maisy responds with a half mocking smile, but she takes the pills from my hand and places them in her mouth, chewing and swallowing them without water.

I find the bandages and gingerly wrap them around Maisy's torso. It's slow going as I try not to jostle her too much and to avoid accidentally brushing somewhere sensitive. When I finally finish with the bandages, some color has returned to Maisy's face, and I tell myself that she's hardly wincing anymore.

"You ready to try standing?" I ask.

"I think so," she replies. She gives me a smile. "I think those energy pills actually helped. All that adrenaline pumping through me seems to be masking some of the pain."

"Hah!" I say triumphantly, throwing her a smirk.

"Oh whatever," she says, but I see a smile playing around the edge of her lips.

Maisy puts her right arm around my shoulders, and I grab on before hoisting her up.

"Ok?" I ask. When she nods we begin walking slowly through the woods.

I know the snares are too far away for Maisy to walk so I suggest that I leave her by the river to recover and start a fire while I go grab the game. She agrees, and we hobble through the woods for another ten minutes before we reach the river. While we walk I try to hide my worry. I had been eager to fight Shard when I thought that Maisy would be able to help, but she is so weak she can barely walk, leave aside use her hand-to-hand combat skills against Shard.

Maisy looks pale and clammy by the time we reach the river, but she resolutely clenches her jaw as I ease her down into a sitting position, leaning her against a boulder. I leave her with our last package of nuts and the bottle of energy pills before turning back around and slipping into the forest again.

I feel uncomfortable leaving Maisy alone and practically defenseless for too long, so I jog silently through the woods towards our snares. Ideally, I would prefer to hide in the forest for a few days to let Maisy heal up, but there are only four tributes left now, and I am sure the people of Panem don't want to wait a few days to see someone die. I have a sinking feeling that the Games will be ending soon, regardless of how hard I try to hide Maisy.

There are several rabbits caught in the snares. I quickly cut down the rabbits and gather the rope in my pack. There's no need to reset the snares with the final showdown approaching so quickly. I'm not sure why I bother collecting the rope considering that the Games should be over soon, but I can't bring myself to part with it. Of all the things in my life, I feel most comfortable and confident with traps and ropes; I feel a sort of assurance with weight of the coiled rope in my bag.

I take a quick sip of water before turning back towards the river. I pay minimal attention to my surroundings, instead wondering as I jog I how much of the rabbit we should eat and how much we should conserve.

I've jogged about a quarter mile when I hear the cannon go off.

I stumble in surprise and bile rises in my throat. Did I just leave Maisy by the river to die?

Without a second thought, I start sprinting towards the river.

As I approach the river, I slow down. My lungs burn and I can hear my sharp breaths echoing in the woods. I take a few cautious steps, being careful to remain in the shadows in case Maisy's killer is lying in wait.

When I finally reach the edge of the forest, I feel my foot accidentally bump into something. I look down at the offending root and inadvertently gasp. Right by my feet, is a pale face smudged with mud and surrounded by a mass of blond waves.

It's Vane.

Slowly I lower my gaze and see blood congealed around a clean slit through her throat. The gash is so deep that I can see the white of her trachea at the base of the cut.

I swallow feeling ill. My stomach twists with unease. Maisy would never murder Vane in this way, with such a clear enjoyment of the kill.

At that moment I hear the sound of voices. I feel beads of sweat break out on my forehead as I creep along the tree line until the river comes into view. What I see paralyzes me with fear.

I can see Maisy's back. Her shirt is off and some of the bandages have come undone revealing the ugliness of her bruise, harsh in the bright sunlight. What's worse is that her head is thrown back, and Shard is holding her by her neck, a grim smile planted on his arrogant face.

Recovering from my momentary paralysis, I reach back and pull an arrow from my quiver. I aim carefully, but it's difficult to gain an opening. Maisy's back is to me, and her body is almost completely blocking Shard. With the flood and the arrows I lost killing the twins and Slither, I only have two arrows left. I can't afford to miss.

"I swear, I don't know where he is," I hear Maisy say, her voice strained. "We split up at the beginning of the Games. I haven't seen him since the Cornucopia." I inhale, realizing Maisy is trying to buy time by trying to convince Shard that we're not allies.

"I've been over most of this stadium and haven't seen him," Shard says coolly. His grip on Maisy's neck tightens and she starts to cough and scrabble at his hands. "Tell me where he is."

I continue creeping along the tree line trying to get around to the other side so I can get a clear shot on Shard. But I also strain my ears to hear their conversation.

"That way," Maisy coughs out, pointing desperately. "He wanted to keep going, reach the end of the stadium. Get far away so the other tributes would take each other out first."

Shard loosens his grip perceptibly and looks deep into Maisy's eyes.

"Don't lie to me," he says in an icy voice.

"I'm not. Shard, I swear," I can hear tears in her voice. I desperately want to pick up my speed, but if Shard hears me, the element of surprise will be gone, and I don't have enough arrows to afford that.

Shard selects a vicious looking knife from an assortment of weapons in his belt and twirls it in his free hand. I gulp in fear, and I hear Maisy let out a soft whimper.

Shard's face seems to soften and he looks at Maisy with something like regret in his eyes. He holds the knife to Maisy's throat and says almost tenderly, "Like I said, it's a shame I won't get to know you before I kill you."

I stop in my tracks and pull up my bow an arrow. My chances aren't as good as I'd like them to be; I'm facing Maisy and Shard's sides, giving me a very small target, but I'm out of time.

I'm lining up the arrow with Shard's neck when I hear Maisy say, "Get to know me then. We have time."

"What?" I whisper in surprise, my hands spasming involuntarily and dropping the bow a few centimeters. Does Maisy think she and Shard can have a _chat_ before he kills her? Shard seems to be thinking the same thing; he looks at Maisy with an incredulous, smirking expression on his face.

Maisy reaches out a hand and cups Shard's cheek. "I'm dying either way," she says, "but maybe you'll remember me this way."

Shard still looks shocked, and I take the opportunity to aim the arrow again. Straight for his arrogant neck.

I'm about to release the arrow when Maisy's hand tightens and pulls Shard's face to hers.

I gasp again. Maisy and Shard are kissing fiercely. He drops his knife and his hands come up and twine in Maisy's hair as he pulls her face closer. Her arms circle around Shard's waist to his back, and her face, angled towards his, blocks his neck from my arrow.

A red, boiling rage burns within me, taking my breath away. What the hell is Maisy doing? I try to ignore the painful seed of doubt niggling my brain. Did Maisy kiss me in this same way, trying to barter kisses for her life?

Just then I see something to give me pause. Maisy is still kissing Shard deeply, and almost desperately, but her hand slides from his back to his waist, and her fingers gently fumble at the side of his belt.

At that moment I realize that she is reaching for one of his knives.

Shard pulls Maisy back, exposing her neck to his kisses with a hard jerk of her hair. Maisy cries out in pain as Shard dips his head, moving his lips towards her collarbone. At that moment, I see the flash of Shard's knife as Maisy whips it brutally through his gut.

"Ah!" Shard shouts, pushing Maisy away with his left hand and clutching his stomach convulsively with his right.

Maisy doesn't pause. She leaps back at Shard with the knife raised, aiming for his neck. But Shard hasn't survived this long for no reason. He easily bats her arm away, his face livid with anger.

"You bitch!" Shard says, grabbing Maisy by the wrist and shaking it violently. Maisy squeaks in dismay as the knife is thrown from her hand.

Shard let's go of Maisy's wrist and grabs her neck. "I'll kill you, you stupid bitch," he says, squeezing her neck so that her eyes bulge. He pulls back his other arm and punches Maisy hard in the stomach. The remaining air is knocked out of Maisy's lungs, and she slumps forward, her strength gone.

At that moment I burst into action. I lift the bow, aim for Shard, and release the arrow.

Shard had just lifted his arm for another punch, and the arrow buries into his right shoulder instead of his neck. I don't pause to gauge his reaction; I'm already stringing my last arrow onto the bow and striding out of the woods.

"A bitch and a liar," Shard sneers at Maisy before turning to meet my eyes. He's dropped her to the ground and is holding his wounded shoulder with his left hand.

I shoot my last arrow straight at Shard's head. He ducks easily, never breaking eye contact with me, and the arrow whistles past his ear, effectively signaling the passing of our last best hope for survival.

"Come to defend her honor, District 12?" Shard says, a mocking smirk on his pale face. He's completely calm, acting as though I didn't just try to take him out with an arrow. Somehow, his black mohawk and bangs are still in perfect condition. "it wasn't my fault you know. Your little partner just jumped me like a whore."

I refuse to react to his words. Instead I pull out a knife from my belt and clutch it loosely as I crouch, my eyes never leaving Shard. My body is tense and coiled, ready to react to whatever he does. Rage simmers in my gut, and I want nothing more than to tear Shard apart, limb from limb.

Shard crouches down too, his right arm still cradling his wounded stomach and his left hand clenched in a fist. We start to circle each other, looking for an opening.

A grin growing on his face, Shard laughs. "She does taste good, doesn't she?" he taunts, his eyes barely flicking towards Maisy, who hasn't moved from her crumpled position on the ground. "Like kissing me would have saved her life," he adds with another cruel laugh.

I clench my jaw, trying to reign in my anger. I don't dare risk a look at Maisy. I know it's the opening that Shard is looking for.

"Are you going to cry, District 12?" he says mockingly. "Did you _love_ her?"

My body tenses, ready to spring, my hand reflexively clutching my knife in anticipation of cutting Shard's tongue out of his mouth.

Just then, Maisy uncoils from the ground and leaps at Shard, holding the knife he had dropped when they started kissing. Her hands dart out in a flash, the knife ripping brutally through Shard's thigh.

"Gah!" Shard shouts. "You just won't die, will you?" He bites out, aiming a hard kick at Maisy's head.

It's all the opening I need.

I hear Maisy's cry in pain as I launch myself at Shard, hitting him hard in the gut. We both fall over and struggle in the water at the edge of the river, battling for supremacy. I manage to rake several long cuts along Shard's neck with my knife before he wrestles the knife away. I grab his neck and pull back my arm to punch him in the face when he aims a ferocious kick to my gut, sending me sprawling.

I shout in dismay as Shard gets on top of me. He smashes me with several brutal punches to the face, and I'm seeing stars and tasting blood when I feel his hands circle my neck. I pull back my arm and manage to punch him in the face hard enough so that he releases me.

Still lying on the ground, I scrabble for Shard's neck, squeezing as hard as I can. Shard reaches back to punch me again, when I see Maisy rise up behind him with a large rock in her hand. She raises her arm and smashes the rock into Shard's skull with a scream.

Shard falls to the side, finally freeing me. I pick up a rock from the ground and smash it again and again into his already bleeding skull, feeling the bones cracking and splintering as I demolish his smug face.

The cannon sounds miles away when it goes off, but the booming brings me back to reality. I let the stone fall to the ground, and I lean back on my heels, sighing and turning away from Shard, the right side of his face nothing but a mangled pulp. The left side of his face is eerily unharmed, his black shock of hair hardly ruffled.

I hear the hovercraft droning in the trees as I wearily get to my feet and limp to the river. I dip my hands in the cold water and scrub off all of the blood and bits of Shard's brain. I bring the cold water to my face gingerly, washing away the blood and letting the coolness soothe my aching jaw. I even take off my shirt and dip it in the water, using it as a washcloth to rinse away the sweat, blood, and grime along my torso.

I don't look up as I hear the hovercrafts settle behind me to pick up Shard and Vane, though I feel the intense wind of their engines whipping through my hair.

I hear the hovercrafts rising behind me and flying away, leaving a deadly quiet in their wake. In the silence, I hear Maisy panting to my left.

I look up and see Maisy sitting on the ground, her knees drawn up to her chin and her wide eyes looking at me fearfully.

"Hey, it's ok," I say, walking towards her, trying to alleviate her fear. "He's gone. Shard's gone," I say as I approach.

"I know," Maisy whimpers, looking away from me. A tear leaks out of her eye and falls quickly to the ground.

"We'll be fine," I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She immediately flinches away. "What? Are you hurt?" I say, remembering the way Shard had kicked Maisy in the head. I lift my thumb to gently stroke the small cut at her temple and brush away the flecks of dried blood in her hair.

"What are you doing?" Maisy says almost desperately, tears falling openly now. She still won't look at me.

"What do you mean?" I say gently. I don't want to spook her.

'Stop being nice. Just do it," she says, her voice cracking.

"What?" I say, dropping my hand, completely at a loss.

"It's you and me now. Everyone's dead. You have to kill me now," Maisy says, finally meeting my eyes.

My mouth falls open in surprise. In all of the excitement of fighting off Slither's surprise attack, thinking Maisy had been killed, finding Vane's beautiful and mutilated body, and killing Shard, I had completely forgot that I would have to kill Maisy too.

But now, in the quiet of the vast arena, Maisy and I are the only two tributes left.

It had been the two of us against every one for so long, and after deciding to let Maisy live this morning, I can't imagine hurting her, leave aside killing her.

"Maisy," I say, feeling overwhelmed, my eyes widening in panic, "I can't kill you. I already told you that."

"Well one of us has to die," she says, her lower lip trembling, "and I'm not going to kill you."

"Well, I'm not killing you," I say stubbornly, folding my arms and scowling at her.

Maisy cracks a smile at my petulant face. "So what, we're just going to sit here until the Game makers send a mudslide?"

I grin back at her. "Or we could pull a Katniss and Peeta, go look for some poisonous berries."

"Don't joke!" she says, pushing my shoulder with a laugh. "Besides there aren't any poisonous berries this year."

"What?" I say, wrinkling my brow in confusion. I think over the past several days. "Just because we haven't _seen_ any poisonous plants…"

"Gale," Maisy cuts me off. "There hasn't been _anything_ poisonous in the arena this year."

"Huh?" I say in surprise. I look at Maisy and see laughter in her eyes. "Do you think the Capitol is afraid of us killing ourselves?"

Maisy's eyes light up in one of her blazing smiles, and I feel my whole body responding. My shoulders relax, and I feel an answering smile growing on my face.

All of a sudden I start to laugh. I hear Maisy laughing too, and our voices ring through the forest. How can the Capitol be so daft? As though they can save the country from all-out rebellion simply by removing poisonous berries from the arena.

I clutch my stomach. My whole body aches from today, and the jostling from my laughter is not helping. I wipe away a tear from the corner of my eyes and try to catch my breath. I'm about to open my mouth to tell Maisy how absurd the whole situation is, when I feel her climb onto my lap.

"Whoa," I say, reflexively reaching out behind me so we don't fall over. "What-?" I begin, but Maisy has wrapped her arms around my neck, and the words catch in my throat as I see her radiant smile.

"Shh," she says with a sly look. "Who knows when that mudslide will come?" she adds, pulling my head down towards her.

My questions get muffled in Maisy's lips as she kisses me.

All thoughts of poisonous berries and mudslides immediately vanish. I snake my arms around Maisy's tiny waist and pull her towards me, feeling the warmth of her bare skin where the bandages have fallen off.

This kiss is different from the one this morning, when we were exploring and enjoying each other for the first time.

This time, Maisy is more confident, taking control. She kisses me deeply, her body moving against mine as she tries to bring me closer. Her hands dance up my arms and along my neck, and she brings them up to rake her nails through my hair. I groan in surprise, her forceful movements and body pressing against mine send a hot punch of desire roiling through my body.

I respond, struggling to remove the bandages from Maisy's back so I can feel her soft, creamy skin. I run my hands up the curve of her spine and bury them in her curls.

"Oh Gale," Maisy murmurs, and the sound of her saying my name in that groaning whisper nearly sends me over the edge. I pull back just a millimeter and part my lips to take in another breath, and then Maisy is there again, pressing her lips into mine and slipping her tongue between my parted lips.

I can't see, I can't think, all I can do is feel Maisy, her small tongue hot and sweet in my mouth. I fist her hair, trying desperately to pull her closer. And when she grinds her hips against mine, I see stars.

I lower my hands, tugging at her hips, urging her to maintain her rhythm. And she does, rubbing against me in time with her kisses. I concentrate solely on the feel of her hips moving against mine, her taut stomach and curves arched against my body, her nails raking over my shoulders, her mouth, so warm, sucking on my lower lip.

Suddenly I feel her hands withdraw from my hair and a sudden rush of cold air as she pulls her body away from me.

"Whoa, hey!" I say, breathlessly, falling forward, my arms suddenly empty.

"Gale, I'm so sorry," Maisy whispers. Then she groans lightly.

"Why?" I ask, shaking my head to clear it. I'm still seeing stars and can barely breath. "That was the most amazing kiss I have _ever_-"

My vision finally clears and what I see makes my heart stop.

Maisy is lying with her back on the ground, her hands around the hilt of Shard's knife, which is buried up to its base in her stomach.

"What? Maisy!" I cry in a panic, stumbling on my hands and knees to her side. I push her hands away and press mine against the wound. Blood continues to pour out of the wound, seeping between my fingers and leaving a pool on the ground.

"What did you do?" I groan, frantically pulling the tangle of bandages from under Maisy and trying to staunch the flow of blood.

"Leave it, Gale," Maisy says, and her voice already sounds like it's fading.

"No. No," I say, shaking my head vehemently, packing the bandages around the wound.

Maisy's hand grabs at mine feebly. I turn to look at her, and in that moment I know that there is no hope.

"It has to be this way," she says faintly, her eyes fluttering and dark with pain.

"No. Maisy," I plead, my voice cracking.

I see tears gathering in her eyes, and my heart wrenches so painfully I can't breath. I leave one hand on her wound, holding the bandages in place. I use the other hand to stroke Maisy's face, staining her pale skin with her own blood that is sticky on my hand.

"Maisy, you can't," I say. I can feel the tears coming, and I don't even care.

Maisy's lip quirks up in a small, painful smile and she looks at me with her beautiful, watery eyes. She lifts her hand and lets it settle on mine.

"I wish things could have been different," she whispers, but then a loud droning overhead drowns out the rest of her words.

Two hovercrafts are descending, one with a ladder hanging out of its belly, and the other with a claw.

"No!" I shout, jumping up in a panic. "No! You can't take her. She's not dead yet!" I wave my hands wildly, begging the hovercrafts to go. My screams burn my throat.

"No, no, no, no," I say desperately, leaning back down towards Maisy. Her eyes are dimmed and she's wracked with painful coughs from the dust the hovercrafts are kicking up.

"No. NO!" I shout, not knowing if I should concentrate on Maisy or the hovercrafts. I leap up again and scream even louder. But the hovercrafts ignore me, descending menacingly towards the two of us.

"She's not dead! She's not DEAD!" I shout, scratching my throat with the force of my yells.

I'm still waving wildly when my arm hits the first hovercraft's rope ladder. I immediately realize my mistake as my entire body freezes. I can't move, I can't turn, I can't speak.

The hovercraft begins to rise, and all I can think is that the Games can't be over because Maisy isn't dead yet.

I can't move to look down at her body. All I can see is the claw of the second hovercraft descending and then rising again. The second hovercraft is rising faster than my own, and all of a sudden its claw is in my line of sight. Maisy's body is splayed in the hovercraft's talons, her limbs spread eagled back, her eyes closed, and blood still dripping from her wound and falling towards the ground. She looks dead.

In the distance I hear the cannon go off, and my heart cracks down the middle. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I'm frozen and they can't fall. Maisy disappears from my line of sight, and I'm screaming, cursing, thrashing in my head, but my body won't move.

I'm pulled into the hovercraft, and I see a man in a white coat come towards me with a syringe. I feel a sharp pain, and then I'm released from the freezing effects of the ladder.

I lurch forward, reaching for the man in the white coat. He's backed away, and as I stride towards him, I can't seem to walk straight.

"She's not dead. You bastard. You bastard!" I yell, my voice raw and slurring. I run into a table of instruments and hear them clattering loudly to the floor. I lurch painfully towards the doctor and grab him by the collar. He looks terrified.

"You bastard," I murmur, but black splotches are spreading along the sides of my vision. I feel woozy and off-balance. I no longer have the strength to hold onto the man, and suddenly I fall to the side, blackness overtaking me.

A/N: Don't despair! There are several more chapters in this story so please stick with me! Next chapter: the return of Katniss…


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **So I know it's been ages and ages since I updated. It's a long story that I'm sure you all don't care to hear, but hopefully I'm back for a while now. Erm, not else much to say, though there is a bit of sexual connotation here, so don't read if that offends your sensibilities. Also, a quick thanks to all my reviewers: **ShootingStar34**, **fcajoymartin**, **StarPrincess999**, **StarofCalamity**, **eac12897**, **Kid on FanFiction**, **Rue Her Death**, and **Wannabe Imprintee**. And to my anonymous reviewers **Anni-Maria**, sorry I took so long, here it is at last, and **Mayleen**, thank you for the wonderful review, I'm glad you like Maisy, and I think your English is great! Reviewers, I only continued this story because of all of you!

And since it's been so long, a little recap:

I can't see, I can't think, all I can do is feel Maisy, her small tongue hot and sweet in my mouth. I fist her hair, trying desperately to pull her closer. And when she grinds her hips against mine, I see stars.

I lower my hands, tugging at her hips, urging her to maintain her rhythm. And she does, rubbing against me in time with her kisses. I concentrate solely on the feel of her hips moving against mine, her taut stomach and curves arched against my body, her nails raking over my shoulders, her mouth, so warm, sucking on my lower lip.

Suddenly I feel her hands withdraw from my hair and a sudden rush of cold air as she pulls her body away from me.

"Whoa, hey!" I say, breathlessly, falling forward, my arms suddenly empty.

"Gale, I'm so sorry," Maisy whispers. Then she groans lightly.

"Why?" I ask, shaking my head to clear it. I'm still seeing stars and can barely breath. "That was the most amazing kiss I have ever-"

My vision finally clears and what I see makes my heart stop.

Maisy is lying with her back on the ground, her hands around the hilt of Shard's knife, which is buried up to its base in her stomach.

"I wish things could have been different," she whispers, but then a loud droning overhead drowns out the rest of her words.

Two hovercrafts are descending, one with a ladder hanging out of its belly, and the other with a claw.

"No!" I shout, jumping up in a panic. "No! You can't take her. She's not dead yet!" I wave my hands wildly, begging the hovercrafts to go. My screams burn my throat.

In the distance I hear the cannon go off, and my heart cracks down the middle. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I'm frozen and they can't fall. Maisy disappears from my line of sight, and I'm screaming, cursing, thrashing in my head, but my body won't move.

I'm pulled into the hovercraft, and I see a man in a white coat come towards me with a syringe. I feel a sharp pain, and then I'm released from the freezing effects of the ladder.

"She's not dead. You bastard. You bastard!" I yell, my voice raw and slurring. I run into a table of instruments and hear them clattering loudly to the floor. I lurch painfully towards the doctor and grab him by the collar. He looks terrified.

"You bastard," I murmur, but black splotches are spreading along the sides of my vision. I feel woozy and off-balance. I no longer have the strength to hold onto the man, and suddenly I fall to the side, blackness overtaking me.

And here it is at last…

Chapter 14

I feel warm. And hazy. And sore all over. My mind is foggy and blank, and I blink hard, trying to bring the world into focus. An indistinct figure hovers overhead, her long, dark hair hanging over her shoulders as I look up at her.

I start in surprise. "Maisy?" I croak out, my throat scratchy and strange.

"No, it's me," the voice is soft and pleading and sounds as though it's coming from far away.

I swim through the fog blanketing my brain and blink rapidly until the girl swims into focus.

"Katniss?" I question, feeling confused and disoriented. And let down.

"Yeah, it's me," she says with a smile, her fingers lightly running through my hair. "It's over, Gale. You're safe," she whispers, her eyes looking moist.

"Katniss," I say groggily, struggling to sit up, "Where's Maisy? Have you seen her?"

Confusion flickers across her face. And something else—disappointment maybe? But my head is cloudy and pounding and I can't be bothered to figure it out.

"Gale," Katniss says uncertainly, her brow creasing, "She's…well, she's dead, Gale. We all saw it."

I shake my head, still feeling foggy. "No, but are you sure?" I ask, and my head must be clearing because I can hear the way I'm slurring my words. "The cannon, it went off so late."

"Gale," Katniss says, stroking my hair gently. It feels strange; we've hardly ever touched before. "Maisy's dead. I saw the casket. They've already sent it to District 12."

"What?" I exhale, collapsing back on the bed. I feel empty, winded. Hollow. "You're sure?" I try again, knowing her answer.

"Yeah," she says, and there's something in her voice that makes me look up. "I'm sure," she says. "I saw it myself."

There's pity in her eyes. It's something I've never seen in her before, and I turn away, the white sheets rustling as I twist onto my side, my back towards Katniss.

"I think you better go, Katniss," I say, my voice even. "I want to go back to sleep."

"Hey," she says uncertainly, hearing the lie in my voice. I imagine feeling the whisper of her hand hovering over my shoulder, like she wants to reach out and touch me but is hesitating.

"I'm tired," I lie again, my voice calm and quiet. In the silence I concentrate on my body, keeping it still. I hold my eyes open, unblinking, feeling them dry out like bone. I hold my shoulders in suspension, completely motionless without being tense. Waiting.

"Ok," Katniss whispers finally. She pauses. "I'm glad you're safe." Her fingers touch my shoulders lightly, fleetingly. "And…I'm sorry. For everything."

With a soft rustle I hear her rise from her chair, hesitate, and then leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

I continue staring at the wall, not seeing the white expanse, still holding my body immobile, my eyes wide and open.

Then, without blinking, I feel my eyes moisten. I don't gasp or cry out or even breath. I hold my breath and, unmoving, unblinking, feel hot wetness roll down my cheeks, along my chin, and onto the bed. If Katniss were to walk in again, she would think that nothing had changed. My back still faces the door, and I haven't moved. She wouldn't be able to see my face, slick with burning tears. And the fingertips of my hand lying flat on the sheet that are white as I press down desperately, achingly. Willing Maisy back.

…

The next time I wake up, my head is clear, and my body doesn't hurt. But I feel blank, emptied. Like all my insides have been scooped out, and dry air is whispering back and forth inside me.

I hear a clinking sound to my left and turn to see Haymitch slouched in a chair, his eyes gummy and red, his hair a mess, and his shirt dirty and untucked. He holds a half-empty bottle of clear liquid loosely in his hand and reeks of alcohol and despair. He looks devastated. I don't ask him about Maisy. If I ever had my doubts about her being alive, his face and attitude tell me all I need to know.

For the first time in my life, I understand why Haymitch is always drunk.

"Hey, kid," he mutters, finally feeling my gaze on him. "Ready for your big day?" He takes another long swill from the bottle, sloshing a few drops on his shirt in the process.

"Hm?" I question tiredly, raising an eyebrow.

"Your big debut," he says, taking another swig. "As victor," he adds, his voice bristling with bitterness.

Of course. I have to collect my victor's crown. And watch the highlight reel.

I close my eyes, wishing that this is all some horrible dream, and I will wake up in the Seam, my biggest worry getting to the mines on time.

I open my eyes and see Haymitch's ugly face appraising me through bleary eyes. I'm too tired to even feel angry.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I say evenly. "Which is probably more than you can say."

Haymitch lets out a soft snort. "Yeah, well who really cares?" he sighs. He scrubs a hand through his hair and lumbers to his feet. I take my cue from him and swing my legs off the bed. I stretch my arms out in front of me, and notice for the first time that they are tan and smooth. No burns, no scars, no reminders.

No Maisy.

I shake the thought away quickly, unwilling to think about her with Haymitch in the room.

"How do you feel?" Haymitch asks, holding the door open for me.

I pause to consider his question. How do I feel? All the anger, all the fight is gone. I feel tired and …apathetic mostly. Resigned, like I knew this would happen all along. It's the Hunger Games after all. I shrug.

"Empty," I say.

Haymitch looks at me beadily through his red-rimmed eyes and dirty shock of hair. "Good," he says finally. "Pray it stays that way."

We walk out the door together, a million things unsaid and nothing left to say.

…

The stylists poke and prod me, pulling and pushing my face this way and that, exclaiming over my transformation, my dramatic win. I let them do what they want, getting into the bath when I'm told to, getting out when I'm told to, sitting, standing, turning, dressing. If they're expecting me to respond, they quickly learn to keep it to themselves. I don't say a single word.

And then I'm under the stage. I can hear hundreds of voices, excitement and anticipation filtering through the wooden beams that separate me from all of Panem. I just stand there, detached, absentmindedly loosening the forest-green tie looped around the white collar of my shirt. One thought, wispy and crackling, floating through my head like a bone-dry leaf caught in an autumn wind:

Don't think. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think about it now. Don't think about her now, with all the world watching.

And then Haymitch joins me under the stage. He's wearing a clean shirt and his hair is washed, but his breath still reeks of alcohol and his eyes are strangely swollen.

"Show time," he says with a smile like shards of glass.

The platform begins to rise, and a spotlight shines on Haymitch as the trapdoor slides open silently. Waves of cheering roll down to me. Haymitch responds with a grim smile and a wave of his hand, his shoulders still hunched.

I step on the platform next, and the cheers get louder, almost deafening, as I rise up. An impossibly bright light shines in my face, exacerbated by hundreds of flash bulbs flaring and clicking from every direction in the massive sea of dark, indistinguishable faces. Hundreds and hundreds of them, rising all around me on levels and tiers and balconies—five thousand faces, faceless in the dark, cheering, calling, thinking they know me.

"Well, Gale Hawthorne, you made good on your promise. The cousin of Katniss Everdeen pulls through for a dramatic victory!" Caesar Flickerman says, patting my shoulder heartily.

I don't bother answering with more than a nod. I'm a victor. They can't touch me now.

"And to think," Caesar continues, not put off by my lack-luster response, "Another pair of star-crossed lovers from District 12! It seems to run in the family!"

I can't help but snort at that comment. If only Caesar knew about how I loved Katniss before the Games; star-crossed lovers indeed. But then I think of Maisy, and how maybe I could have loved her if given half a chance, and her loss hits me again like a punch in the gut.

"Why, _why_ couldn't the Game makers keep the rule about two winners from one district?" Caesar laments in an overly dramatic mournful tone. The audience laps it up, groaning and wailing in response. If I actually cared I would sneer in response; they're acting like they've lost Maisy, not me. And I know that in a few days they'll have moved on to the next drama in their lives and forget all about her.

"Sorry, Gale," Caesar says, clapping my back in what I'm sure he thinks is a comforting manner. "I guess victory is your consolation prize." The audience switches moods almost immediately, cheering wildly in response.

"But because the entire country is mourning with you, President Snow decided to give you a little something else to celebrate your impressive victory," Caesar is buttering up the audience, waggling his eyebrows as they beg to know the answer to this new mystery. I couldn't care less. I don't need some stupid, inconsequential pity prize. I just want to get out of here.

"Ready, Gale?" Caesar asks, turning me around to face the side of the stage. I shrug. "Ready, Panem?" Caesar asks louder, turning to the audience and holding their gaze until the cries of anticipation crescendo.

"Here it is!" Amid the cheers and musical flourish, another trapdoor opens in the stage. Fake smoke billows out and spotlights criss-cross wildly around the area. A platform is slowly rising, obscured by the smoke and neon lights.

When the smoke clears, the audience's cheers are absolutely deafening. Caesar is shouting into the microphone, trying to be heard over the incredible din. I don't register the noise or Caesar's words. My entire view narrows to the prize the trapdoor has revealed.

It's Maisy.

Or at least, someone who looks a hell of a lot like Maisy. I don't move. I don't gasp. I just stare. It can't be. I remember Maisy's pale form, spread-eagled and dripping thick, red blood, as she was air lifted from the arena. How did the Capitol manage to find someone that looks so much like Maisy?

Because in her knee-length white dress with a red sash and matching ribbon almost hidden in her abundant curls, this girl looks exactly like Maisy. She even has the same shy tilt of her head and wide eyes.

"And here she is!" Caesar's voice jars into my thoughts. "Maisy Harper pulled from the brink of death by the best Capitol doctors. President Snow's gift to you, Gale, and to you, Panem!"

The cheers and stomping and wild clapping are truly deafening. But I still don't move. I stare at this strange Maisy-like apparition, trying to decide if she is real or if this is all some cruel joke.

The girl shifts nervously, a shy smile playing around her lips. She turns her eyes from the ground and finally looks up at me. God, her eyes are beautiful. And then she smiles. A brilliant, _blazing_ smile that pierces right through me.

And then I know.

Without a second thought, I'm running towards Maisy. In three long strides I reach her and pull her towards me until our bodies are flush against each other, her arms around my waist and my face buried in her hair.

"It's really you. It can't be you," I whisper in her ear, placing a hand on her cheek to pull her closer.

I can feel Maisy smile next to me, and her hands are running gently along my waist.

"It's me. It's me," she murmurs. "Gale, it's me."

My breath hitches in my throat, and everything is suddenly blurry and unreal. Everything except Maisy, our cheeks pressed against one another, her delicate scent and soft curves and beautiful, beautiful hair.

And then I kiss her. A deep and fragile and bittersweet kiss. I press against her, willing her to be real and just, oh please God, _alive_. She responds with equal desperation, her fingers curling at my waist as I hold her face steady, my fingers splayed along the cool curves of her cheeks. And when she bites down with agonizing tenderness on my lower lip, it feels like longing and disbelief and somehow, inexplicably, like hope.

I pull away because I want to look at her again, make sure she is real. When I open my eyes, she's still there, and panting slightly I rest my forehead against her, drinking in her scent, her smile, her soft breathing. It can't be. It can't be real.

"Well, Gale, what do you think of your prize?" Caesar finally breaks into my thoughts, his hand coming down onto my shoulder and his microphone coming up to my face.

I don't dare turn away from Maisy. "Unbelievable," I breathe out and close my eyes again, breathing Maisy in, as the auditorium erupts into another crashing wave of celebration.

"That's exactly what it is, Panem! Unbelievable!" Caesar has turned back to the crowd, his hand still on my shoulder. "President Snow has shown unbelievable mercy, altering the rules of the Games for the sake of young love!"

The crowd is cheering and stomping wildly, but all I can think is that Maisy is alive. Alive. Gloriously, beautifully alive.

Finally, Caesar manages to pull me away from Maisy so I can receive my Victor's crown. Maisy won't be receiving a crown because she technically didn't win the Games; she only survived because the Capitol medical teams swooped in just in time. Once Caesar has explained this all to me, and to the thousands watching, he leads me to the middle of the stage to receive my crown. I don't take my eyes off Maisy though, watching as she goes over to join Haymitch, giving him a huge smile and hug before sitting next to him.

And then President Snow is climbing the stairs towards me, his face clearly molded and altered by surgeries into this artificially young, plasticized version, his lips unnaturally plump and swollen. I feel strangely outside of myself, and I don't know whether to glare at the man for all of the torture and evil he has perpetrated or to fall on my knees and thank him for showing me a shred of mercy that he has denied every one else. I settle for a deadpan look, and he gives me a knowing half smile, like he can read my conflicted thoughts and finds them funny. And then I remember how he tried to get me killed in order to hurt Katniss, and I manage a sneer.

But instead of looking angry at my sneer, President Snow's face breaks into a huge smile, and it's the most terrifying thing I have ever seen because it's like he knows something that gives him the upper hand, some deadly, cruel secret that means I don't stand a chance.

Then he squeezes my shoulder, in what looks like a friendly gesture, but his nails are digging into my skin painfully. "You're not what I expected," he whispers, leaning in towards my ear. He smells sickly sweet, like old blood. I want to gag and push him away, but his nails are insistent, almost piercing my flesh with their pressure. "You were better than I expected. You were perfect. Much better to me alive than dead." And then he releases me, and I'm ashamed because I can't meet his eyes. All I can do is take in one great lungful of air after another, trying to clear my head and stop the room from spinning.

Then he's gone and the audience is cheering and I don't have the time or the presence of mind to figure out what he was talking about.

Caesar ushers me to sit down for the video reel. The lights in the auditorium dim and with a brass fanfare and Capitol insignia, the highlight reel begins.

…

I wish I could say the highlight reel passed in a blur. That my thoughts focused only on Maisy. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. But that would be a lie.

When the video began to play, I couldn't turn away. I refused to give President Snow the satisfaction of knowing how much the Hunger Games affected me. So I stared at the video reel and clenched my jaw so that not a single flicker of emotion would cross my face.

And the video was horrifying, bringing back all of the terrible, bloody moments that I had forgotten or my mind had blocked out. When the cameras panned through images of the fight at the Cornucopia, I felt the panic from that moment rise up reflexively within me, a drip of acid sweat rolling down my back as I watch myself, as if in a dream, scrabbling through the contents of the Cornucopia and slashing out viciously with a knife.

I feel a shiver of horror when I see how close I came to dying when Eye Patch nearly strangled me. I swallow the bile in m y throat when I see Maisy make her first kill. I remember the impossible heaviness and cold ache in my limbs as I see myself attempting to swim through the frozen water, towing Maisy in my wake. I clench my fists, digging deeply into the flesh of my palms, when I see myself kill the platinum-blond twins, refusing to look away. I blush in shame when the video shows me holding a knife to Maisy's throat, her neck lolling languid and swan-like in sleep.

And when Shard kisses Maisy, I see red.

The worst, though, the absolute worst is seeing the end of the Games. When it's just Maisy and me sitting alone in the vast arena, her face terrified of me as I approach her with words of comfort. And then we're kissing, and Maisy is reaching for the knife, and I'm so blinded by the kiss that I don't notice her squeeze her eyes closed, raise the knife, and sink it into her own stomach.

My fingers dig into the sides of my chair, gouging small holes in the wood, as I watch myself desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood and frantically, maniacally waving off the hovercrafts.

And then comes the part of the story I haven't seen. A quick shot of President Snow giving the order. The cannon shoots off as a decoy, and Maisy is pulled into the waiting hovercraft. A team of doctors in crisp white coats speak in clipped, hurried tones, immediately swarming around Maisy and miraculously saving her life. And then a final shot of me, lurching towards the terrified doctor on my hovercraft, fainting, the cries of "she's not dead" still on my lips.

…

After the video reel is the party. Hundreds of people feasting and dancing and laughing, coming to shake my hand, to congratulate me for my victory, to ask me how I feel about Snow saving Maisy. A blur of food and music and fake smiles. And hard as I try to slip unnoticed through the crowd, to wend my way through the jabbering masses and just find Maisy, I find myself continually pulled into another posed photo, another interview, another pointless conversation.

And then it's finally over and I rush up the stairs, not bothering with the crammed elevators. I burst into our rooms, and it's quiet. It's late as I pad over the soft carpet towards my room. But then I stop, hesitating outside Maisy's door.

I take a deep breath and knock. The door slides open easily, and there is Maisy, standing in the dark in the middle of her room in shorts and a thin tank, clearly about to go to bed.

She doesn't say anything, but she smiles in the semi-darkness, the lights from the celebration outside playing across her features. I take that as an invitation and come into the room.

The silence is strange after the blinding lights and constant chatter of the party. But it's nice. Just the two of us now in the dark and quiet.

"Hey," I say, coming in and sitting on the bed. I'm not sure what to do now that it's just the two of us.

"Hey," Maisy says, and walks towards me slowly, until she's standing in front of me.

"Is it really you?" I say without thinking, and I want to cringe because my voice cracks a little at the end.

Maisy places her cool fingers on my jaw and forces my face upwards until I'm looking into the dark pools of her eyes. "Gale, it's me," she whispers firmly. "I'm not a ghost. I didn't die."

"I was so sure…" I say, looking down, my eyes sliding to Maisy's stomach. The fabric there is so thin. I reach out tentatively and push the material up, revealing a swath of smooth, pale skin.

I let my fingers play over her skin lightly. "There's no scar. They didn't even leave a scar," I say, and I close my eyes, remembering the knife protruding from her stomach, blood flowing red and thick and endless from the wound. I remember the sick, impossible hopelessness that had filled my mouth like bile.

An uncomfortable lump grows at the back of my throat, and I lean forward impulsively, kissing the spot on her hip. That cool, smooth place now whole and untouched.

Maisy gasps as she feels the unexpected heat of my lips on her skin, but she doesn't say anything. Instead she tines her fingers through my hair and draws me close. And we stay like that for a while, it could be hours, her hand stroking my hair and my lips pressed to her skin, breathing her in: her smell, her touch, her taste, her heartbeat, until I finally, finally know that she's real.

…

There's no point in traveling back and forth from District 12 in such a short time, so we stay in the Capitol for three weeks, just until Katniss and Peeta's wedding. Maisy and I have to go to the obligatory balls and speeches and parties and interviews, but somehow I don't mind. I just let it all wash over me in a blur. All that's real is Maisy. Her laugh that rings through a crowded room. Her eyes meeting mine across a group of rabid Capitol reporters and gossip hounds. Her hand quietly slipped into mine on the elevator up to our rooms.

I can't help it. I touch Maisy as much as I can. I reach for her often: stroking her shoulder when I'm talking to Capitol politicians or playing with one of her curls after eating another massive Capitol feast. And sometimes, when we have a free morning, we just sit with each other in our living room, our limbs tangled together as Maisy reads a book and I whittle away at a piece of wood, the sun warm on our skin. Maisy doesn't seem to mind my constant need to touch her, my need to know that she's actually here and not some wonderful dream or hallucination.

Haymitch gets it as well. He leaves the two of us alone, doesn't tell us to behave or to listen to our prep teams or anything at all really. He did pull me aside, though, that first day when I found out Maisy was alive. And he told me that President Snow only saved her to end the rebellion. I guess Snow realized that a small act of mercy would give the people hope, hope that they too would be given reprieve. Better that than almost-certain death in a rebellion. And so all of the districts have given up rebellion in favor of hope, hope of a mercy that will never come. It's then that I figure out what President Snow meant when he said I was better off alive than dead: he used me, not against Katniss, but against the rebellion.

So I guess that's why Haymitch avoids the two of us. He's happy Maisy lived but angry that the rebellion died, and I guess he can't decide which alternative would be worse. So he doesn't say anything at all.

And me. Well, I'm angry that that rebellion is over. Angry that Snow used me even though I managed to survive the Games. Angry that I should have to choose between Maisy and the rebellion. And angry with myself. Because a small part of me, a guilty, painful part, is glad that Maisy is alive even if the rebellion isn't. Glad that I'm a Victor, with wealth and security _and_ Maisy. And I know it's wrong, but every time I see Maisy's smile or hear her whisper my name in the dark of night, I can't help it, but I don't feel angry anymore.

Because I actually feel happy with Maisy. For the first time in my life I'm not stressed about my family or food or tesserae. I feel full and content and even my memories of the Hunger Games aren't so bad because I know I would never have found Maisy if I hadn't gone through the Games.

Katniss warned me about the nightmares that come with being Victor, but after a long day of interviews and parties and an hour of kissing Maisy at night, I'm so exhausted that I fall straight asleep. And after the one night, a few days before the wedding, when Maisy peeled off her shirt and we didn't stop at just kissing, for every night after that I've been too tired to think about the Hunger Games, leave aside dream about them when I fall asleep, my skin flushed and warm, my arms around Maisy and my lips on her hair.

…

And before I know it, it's Katniss and Peeta's wedding, and I'm all starched up in a tuxedo and bowtie and Maisy is next to me in a beautiful red dress. We've been pushed to the side, still visible but behind the more important people. Victors and politicians and, of course, Snow himself.

In the heat and crush of people and the twisting heads trying to get first glimpse and the flashbulbs and cameras, I can barely see Katniss come down the aisle. She could be anyone with her long hair left long and open under the frothy white veil. And it's funny and kind of sad because not long ago I would have killed to be standing at the other end of the aisle, but now I haven't talked to Katniss in over a week and I'm happy right where I am-with another girl in the far corner of the room.

I do get to see Katniss up close though. During the reception Maisy and I fight through the crowds until we finally get close enough for a congratulatory hug. I hardly even recognize Katniss under the smooth veneer of makeup and the long, curled lashes, though she still looks as beautiful as always. There are tears in her eyes as she hugs me fierce and close, and I try not to laugh because I've never seen Katniss cry tears of joy before, especially over someone like Peeta Mellark. But I don't say anything because I know she would be mortified if she knew that I saw her tears, so I just say, "Congratulations, Catnip," and I even manage to shake hands with Peeta because he's Maisy's friend, and Katniss's husband, and we're going to be neighbors soon in Victor's Village.

And in a blur of dancing and eating and avoiding all the reporters, it's over. And Katniss is married and we're alone in my room, my hands tangled in Maisy's hair and my body pressed against her warmth and her curves as she sighs in the dark.

And by morning we're on our way home, the train steadily chugging through the mist and fog, the Capitol disappearing through our rear window.

…

Maisy and I sit in the train on the way home. I play lazily with one of Maisy's curls while looking out the window, thinking of my family and coming home at last. Maisy doesn't have such fond memories of home, but she just sits quietly, not interrupting my thoughts, reading an article in the newspaper about Katniss and Peeta's wedding.

"Look," I say, and Maisy turns her head. The fence surrounding District 12 is just visible in the distance, growing out of the landscape as we approach. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I think of my family. I wonder if they're alright, if they had enough to eat while I was gone, if the kids have grown.

"Gale," Maisy whispers, and it's the first time I've seen her look scared since the Games.

"What?" I say, my nerves taut.

"What about Katniss?" she asks, biting her lower lip.

"Huh?" I answer, confused because she looks so serious when talking about Katniss.

"Katniss," Maisy says again, putting down the newspaper and taking my hand. "You'll be living right near her in Victor's Village. I know you guys had a thing, or something. I don't know. Do I have to worry about her?" she says, and as she looks into my eyes I realize with a start that she does look worried.

"Maisy," I say, shocked that she had been worried about Katniss this whole time. "You don't have to worry about Katniss. You don't have to worry about anything now."

Maisy doesn't look convinced so I tell her the truth. "I did have a thing for Katniss. I was in love with her for ages, probably for years. It just felt right, the two of us. Anything else was unthinkable. But then she went to her Hunger Games and I went to mine, and the world we knew together was gone. Everything changed. For her and for me. I'm happy with you," I say and I squeeze her hand.

"Ok," Maisy says, and I know she means it because I can see the smile in her eyes. I'm leaning in to kiss her when-

"Time to go!" I turn to the door and see Effie Trinkett standing there, her hands fluttering as she gestures for us to get up. My head whips to the window and see that while Maisy and I were talking, the train had entered District 12. Crowds of people are squeezed onto the platform, cheering and waving signs. I strain my neck, and my heart constricts because I can't see my family in the crowd.

"Gale, come on!" Maisy says and tugs on my hand. I turn to look at her, and I see her smiling her beautiful smile. "Come on," she says again. "We're finally home."

And as Maisy pulls me forward by my hand towards the cheering crowds of District 12, I can't help but smile. I'm finally home.

_Fin_

**A/N: **So that's it…finally done! I actually do have a couple epilogue chapters kind of outlined in my head that deal with the aftermath of their relationship and, of course, Katniss-because no one can fall out of love that quickly. I'm not sure if I want to write the epilogue since they don't have much Games action or anything, but if you guys want, I might give it a go. Do tell me what you think of this chapter though. I felt it was a bit anti-climactic, but I would love to hear what you all think!


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